


Expanded Epilogue

by Kalyppso



Series: Golden Discretion [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Drama & Romance, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, My Unit is not Byleth, Non-Graphic Violence, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalyppso/pseuds/Kalyppso
Summary: In this interpretation of Claude's S-Support Ending, he and Faedolyn, an afab nonbinary My Unit, will combat an old enemy, cement a new alliance, and enjoy their long anticipated wedding.





	1. The Eleventh Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy spoilers, but some of the spoilers are wrong because I have taken scissors to the canon. This is the only chapter with combat so either bear with me or enjoy it fully. The story begins at the end of the game, where Fae and Claude are 28 and 24 respectively. The majority of the story takes place when they are 35 and 31.
> 
> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

"You can't leave and not expect me to come with you," the words were lies that fell from Fae's lips. Were they their first lies? They were uncertain. Still the tears flowed and the sentiment stood as they clasped the ring Claude had given them in one hand, striking his chest with their fist, its opposite clinging to his scarves desperately. "You can't just leave me here with these ... people."

Claude sighed, his patience and rectitude wavering as he brought his arms around his companion. Tangling one hand in their hair and the other around their waist, he repeated himself, "You know I will come back. It'll just be for a little while."

Though his voice cracked, his statement brooked no argument, and so Fae sobbed harder and buried themselves deeper into the embrace. They cried so hard that they could feel the separation of their mind and body; and as they disassociated, they lamented that the first time that they should find themselves in his arms it would be to break down like this. Worse still, was the betrayal they felt towards their father. The first time they had cried had been for his death, and this was not a death, although what upset them was more than Claude's promise of a parting. It was the loss of their parents, it was the loss of years of their life, the loss of their best friend - a goddess beyond explanation, the incomprehensible losses of a war only just won, the loss of their life prior to Garreg Mach, and more on more besides.

They hated themselves for this additional burden with which they were saddling Claude. They needn't ask why the two of them didn't suggest another to rule. Lorenz or Hilda could lead their own territories well enough, but they could not direct Fodlan down a path that would lead to the realization Claude's ambitions. He was asking this of them for so many reasons. They needed to be here, as much as they might rather be elsewhere.

As their tears began to slow, Fae pulled themselves away and began frantically wiping at their face, nearly breaking down again when Claude offered them a handkerchief. Finally composed, though red faced and stiff, they teased him.

"A little while? Bringing peace to a country is no small feat, as we've discovered."

Claude chuckled weakly and opened his mouth to retort, but Fae pressed on with another subject.

"How can I possibly rule Fodlan? I still know next to nothing about the Church of Seiros, and I don't know if I could even fake being a follower of the major faith of this land."

"Well," Claude suggested, "the faith was separated from the governing bodies of Fodlan previously."

"But I couldn't risk the Church appointing another Archbishop, and I couldn't ... outlaw this cultural staple. I couldn't even breathe those words in the presence of anyone other than yourself."

"Yeah, I wouldn't say that too loudly, even just in my presence. Seteth might manifest just to strike us down."

"I can try to do this, and I'll have help, but it will take years to set up a new government too. To repair the lands and lives destroyed by the war. If either of us is successful in bringing peace or stability to Fodlan or Almyra, how can we be certain that the countries will then exist in a state that would allow for an alliance?"

"I will not leave to never see you again," Claude insisted, stepping back into Fae's space. He hazarded placing his hands to either side of their face as he asked again, more bluntly than before, "Will you not wear my ring, and make this promise with me?"

They turned their face into the palm of his hand, kissing his glove. Their first kiss, of a sort. They knew little and less about the Church, but they knew enough of marriage to answer, "I will wear it. I will wear it around my neck." Fae smiled a little wider as Claude's eyebrows drooped, "But I refuse to wear it upon my hand until you place it there."

Claude let his hands slip across Fae's neck and shoulders, sharing touch in a way that was previously unallowed and would soon be lost again to distance. He winked as he conceded, "Then I guess I'll have to return especially soon, before someone else puts one there."

Fae pressed into Claude's space again, letting him hold them more gently this time. With less tears and desperate urgency between them, Fae nervously crept closer to the nobleman, pressing their lips to his wicked mouth in a parting gesture. They wondered if he'd ever kissed anyone before, and worried they were stealing something from him, even as they still held the promise of his engagement in their left hand. Even as he drowned them in affection and the kiss slipped deeper and deeper into debauchery.

"Claude," Fae sighed a they struggled to tame their fiance; his hungry mouth slipping past their face to the crook of their neck. They were still in the Goddess Tower, and anyone could happen by if they were so occupied. "Claude?"

Claude stilled his hands, but continued to nuzzle up against Fae, tickling them with his beard as he hummed a reply. "Hn?"

"Claude," Fae pressed, tugging at his collar until he reluctantly pulled away just enough to look in their eyes. "I love you too. I'll be here when -"

Their words were lost on the lips of their confidant, moments stretching into minutes as the couple indulged in this expression of assurance and comfort.

When Fae finally spoke again, it was to try and sober their expectations. "No more than a decade, right? Two?" They grimaced as they voiced a concern that was obviously embarrassing for them. "And you'll ... forgive me if my body ages too much to give us a child?"

Claude's eyes were more sad than usual, though his crafted smile did its best to convince the both of them of his convictions. "Five years. I'll aim for five years." A blush that had grown on his neck crept up into his face. "Plenty of time to still have a family."

"You're too optimistic," Fae scolded with a shake of their head.

"Really? I'd have thought that this might have seemed more doable than half the victories we've achieved since the Millennium Festival."

Fae laughed softly, sad again, wanting to talk more of their emotions and turmoil, but instead indicating that they had best head back to the others and start speaking of their intentions more seriously. There was a country to build.

The sky was darkened with dire obelisks and roaring clouds of magical thunder over the skies of Garreg Mach. It had been seven years since the initially assumed destruction of those who slither in the dark, and two since their remnants had revealed their survival and dark intentions.

Their Eminence, Sovereign Faedolyn of Fodlan stood atop the ramparts of the Monastery, Sword of the Creator in hand, as the wind whipped their cloak about their shoulders and they watched the encroaching threat. Though they had held off Edelgard all those years ago, they worried about the dark resources of which those who slither in the dark took advantage. The Monastery was more populous than previously too, and unlike Rhea, they had no wings with which to engage their strange enemies.

There were soldiers enough stationed on walls to aim bows and pitch at the foot soldiers who claimed to champion the Flame Emperor who worked in tandem with those who slither in the dark, but no matter how they forced back their enemies, the following day new constructs battered against the great wooden doors to the Monastery. They could not face endless numbers and atrocity.

Further restricting their own resources, Fae had ordered the youth of the academy and their professors into the Tomb of the Creator, in the depths of Garreg Mach. They would not do as Rhea had done and have children in the field of battle, especially not as their nobility struggled to continue to call this peacetime.

It was the fifth day of the assault, and as such, there could be three more until the nearest ally might send appropriate troops. Each night Fae slept in fear that pillars of light would come crashing down on this prison of their own making.

Something about the air was different today, and that sent chills down their spine. They nodded towards Alois, and while he directed the efforts of their soldiers, Fae watched the movements of their enemies.

It was less than an hour into their efforts when a loud noise cracked in the east. It took more than a moment to realize that it was the earth, cracking open like a great egg, while some large black spider of slick black stone and soft blue lines crawled out of the ground. A second crack sounded in the market square of Garreg Mach, and Fae felt their blood grow cold as many and more of these burrowing monstrosities showed the truth of the foes they faced.

They called to Alois permission to open the gates should their forces require the room to maneuver to face this enemy that, regardless, could not be stayed by walls. Garreg Mach was very nearly lost, and Fae had to see that those they had sent underground could find a more secure place to hide or evacuate.

Deep within the Tomb, Fae found the students engaged with three of these mechanical spiders, along with their professors and Seteth. Emboldened by the sight of their Sovereign, they divided into teams, striking at their enemies until their scrabbling and sparking came to an end.

The three constructs felled, Fae began to ask Seteth to look for a more secure location to bring the students, even if that should mean evacuating Garreg Mach. Before he could reply however, a deep groaning noise came from the ground beneath, followed by a horrible and unsteady rumble.

The machine that burst forth from the ground was unlike any that Fae had yet seen. Like a cobra, the long construct burst forth from the graves with a head fifteen feet wide, from just beneath their Sovereign. Between their legs in the crown of the creature, Fae saw a dark and ominous cubed manner of Crest Stone before losing their balance to slip down the side of the beast.

Seteth called out their name, and Fae knew they were in trouble, as their waist was caught in the jaws of the great snake as it projected itself up through the stone ceiling, beyond the cathedral, and into the sky beyond.

Fae felt the crunch on their ribs as the creature came crashing back down against the earth, and began to fret further, with what their enemies could do with their blood inside this leviathan and their strange Crest Stone.

On instinct, they struggled to get away, and it was only as they succeeded that they realized what a foolish impulse this had been. Dropped from the maw of the creature, Fae had at least fifty feet to fall. They needed desperately to slow their descent.

Clasping the Sword of the Creator in both hands, Fae could only follow up one bad decision with another and thrust the blade deep into the side of the creature. They skid down the stone and metal and magic for a time, until the blade caught at a strange joint in the beast. Instantly they lost grip with their left hand, and they clung desperately with their right, though their shoulder had surely dislodged, and the momentum felt ready to tear their arm from their body. Their scream shook all soldiers in the courtyard, and then the world went black.

Fae's mastery of Divine Pulse had grown exponentially in their fourteen years of practise. It was the morning, and they'd just finished donning their armour. They ordered the students moved from the Holy Tomb to the reception hall, and would brook no argument. They redirected their soldiers and had scores of them on the ground despite the disadvantage this placed them against in regards to their enemies in the air and beyond the wall.

They had always been eccentric, like their father some would say. Their requests were carried out with raised eyebrows and unsteady arms, but when the spiders crawled up from the earth, Fae was glad to be between them and the students and civilians, and felt secure knowing the snake would rise from the ground further away at the cathedral, giving those under their command time to acclimatize to their enemies and determine a strategy before being struck by such a mighty foe.

The fight should have gone more smoothly, and for a time, it did, but Fae could feel their pool of divine energy depleting as they moved little increments in time, trying to save as many as they could. It had quickly become obvious that this encounter could not be won without some strategic sacrifice, and yet still those words floated bitter and ugly in their mind.

Fae struck the Sword of the Creator up into the mouth of the great mechanical snake for the seventh time. The ancient bone of the blade ground loud and angry against the incomprehensible enemy. They jumped back and away from a biting snap, before advancing up and onto the head of the beast. They felt sure that they needed to strike that square Crest Stone between the construct's eyes. It was surely the intended design that this would be at the worst possible spot to balance.

They slipped down the back and tail of the beast, and felt their ankle catch in some of its many joints, and dropped the Sword of the Creator. Fae started to hyperventilate. Caught on the back of this monstrosity, unarmed and low on insight, they felt the creature start to turn. Though they struggled with their boot, they found themselves unable to wrench free and forced themselves to fall sideways instead of forward on the construct. This saved their ankle from snapping but left them prone on the side of this creature, clinging onto it on their stomach.

Fae had to wonder. Should they go back? Reverse the clock for the last time of the day? How far back should they go? How far back could they go?

A mechanical spider was scaling the wall, the drawbridge of the Monastery was splitting open. Fae and others cried out as the great mechanical snake moved and struck down at a group of soldiers. Fae couldn't risk another timeline being worse. Not yet.

They twisted their foot in the vice of the metal and kicked inward towards the beast before pulling their leg free with all their might. Their boot and leg were shredded, their foot was crushed, but if they were scaling this monstrosity, and crawling anyway, then Fae could abandon their foot for the time being.

Could the creature feel them along its back? Was it in control of itself or was the general of those who slither in the dark controlling this beast from afar?

Grunting, sweating and bleeding, Fae made it to just below the head of the machine, noticing that if they were to place their hands in the joints on the creature's head to reach its peak, that they were likely to lose their fingers. The panels here shifted and overlapped with a rapid speed as they reflected the expressions of the construct. With memory of their dislocated shoulder intact, Fae flexed their left hand before hazarding a grasp and throwing themselves up with a desperate urgency.

Landing on their stomach gave them more maneuverability than landing on their feet had previously, and Fae grabbed hold of the panels that extended towards the center of the snake's face from its eyes. From here, Fae's face was directly over the twisted Crest Stone. They could see that it appeared to be made of a translucent black material, and had grooves on the outside depicting a facsimile of a Crest, and that within its murky depths there was something else, something that pulsated and breathed. 

There was shouting on the battlefield below, but Fae couldn't sound out their cause for alarm. Perhaps they were distressed at their sovereign's current position; they certainly were.

The creature swung its head wildly, and Fae clutched their fingers against the metal so strongly that they had to shut their eyes against the pain. Loud pattering noises signaled a hail of arrows against the beast and Fae winced against the prospect of being felled by friendly fire. With a forward bucking motion, the creature succeeded in smashing Fae's jaw against its metal hide. Their head rung and their teeth ached and they could feel blood swelling to whatever wound this had just inflicted, but worst of all, an expression of the snake's moved the panels against which Fae braced themselves. They were going to fall, again.

By the time this thought had passed through Fae's mind, they were already falling.

With all their might they willed a Divine Pulse to return them to their stupid and precarious position, but time would not agree with them. The clock reversed by but a second, and Fae remained falling, their eyes wide in terror.

The rushing wind and sounds of battle concealed the roar of reinforcements from Fae, and they'd hardly been accessible for news from their captain, completely absorbed with the desire to fell this monstrosity in their home. And so it was with a worry of concussed hallucination that Fae found themselves cushioned in their fall, and caught on the back of a white wyvern, ascending skyward.

"Sorry I'm late." Claude's voice was steady, almost grim. Fae tried to adjust themselves to see him, and he reached out to place a hand on their stomach. "Better not move, Ghaymah and I don't have a lot of practise compensating our flight with extra weight across her neck."

Fae clenched their fists into the barding on the wyvern and hazarded looking around. At least two dozen wyverns spiraled around the obelisks and great construct. One soldier even jumped from his mount and down one obelisk to the next, striking a great axe into the side of each before sliding back down to fall atop his same spinning wyvern.

"There's a Crest Stone," Fae sputtered, and then again, as more of a shout, unsure of how loud to speak over the wind in their ears. "Above the eyes on the ... snake ... thing. I think if it were shattered -"

"Alright," Claude called out in understanding. "Where's your weapon?"

"Somewhere on the ground. I'm sorry, I-"

"I see it." With that, the wyvern sped in a descent like a bird of prey. "You can wield it?" he asked carefully.

"I-? Yes I can."

"Then hold on and be ready. On your right."

The wyvern twisted but did not spin, for which Fae was extremely grateful, and with an extension of their arm and a jolt through their whole body, where they felt Claude lean forward across their chest to weight them down onto their ride, Fae pulled the Sword of the Creator from the rubble with their momentum. As they pressed upwards, Fae found their face sprayed with dust and debris, an obelisk having fallen from the sky not far from their previous location.

Fae brought the sword up over their body as Claude leaned back. Overwhelmed by the reality of being loose on the back of the wyvern with nothing to hold onto, Fae couldn't see what distracted their companion, and in truth still didn't have a good vantage to see him at all, but they recognized the noise a little better now as the ringing in their ears sobered. Claude had retrieved a bow from somewhere and was loosing arrows. He was also calling out to some other riders about where to direct archers and magical support. Fae clutched their sword tighter, hoping that they could fell the great beast, and that if they were to do so, that the other enemies might disperse.

When Claude was able to turn his attention to them again, he reached one hand out to curl over Fae's upper arm gently.

"I'm going to drop you on the head of the snake," he squeezed their arm when they moved to protest. "I can't circle around to see where the Crest Stone is without dropping you, so the best I can do is the head. If I still had Failnaught, then I could drop you off and try to strike it down, but I'm sure we'll need the power of your weapon for this, so just aim straight down and brace yourself. Regardless of if it works, I'll be right there to catch you afterwards. Okay?"

Fae couldn't help a smirk as they teased him, "Don't be late."

The affection in his voice was palpable. "I won't be."

Claude called out that it was time before the wyvern started spiraling, intensifying Fae's fall, feet first towards their target. They fought against their desire to look about at their allies, instead focusing on their rapidly approaching destination. They could hold their sword at an angle and should be able to strike the Crest Stone.

They bent their knees so that they would land weapon first, and felt their wrists crack and burst from the force of their landing. Their resulting scream was lost to the noise of the creature as their legs bounced against the shifting metal of its head. The blue and purple patterns on the beast and its large glowing red eyes flickered and sputtered, and Fae wrapped their forearms around their sword, no longer having faith in their fingers. They peered down among their tangled limbs and saw the crack they'd made in the false Crest Stone splinter and crumble. The strange pulsing mass at the center of the Crest Stone gained speed as a dark liquid started to gush up out of the piercing. And then, it stopped.

The lights went dark on the great construct, and Fae felt themselves falling forward as the lifeless head of the snake began a destructive fall into the graveyard of the Monastery. They forced themselves to release the Sword of the Creator, having to trust it could be retrieved later, and ran as far as the tumbling metal would allow, and jumped.

Fae couldn't help the fear they felt as they free-fell through the air, thinking of hitting the ground and sleeping for another five years, or a thousand. They grit their teeth from the emotional labour, still too distracted by adrenaline to face their physical stress. This time they found themselves caught on the back of Ghaymah as Claude spun beneath them, positioning Fae behind himself. Fae instantly screamed, and not a shrill shriek but an angry guttural noise. It seemed likely that Claude would have expected them to be able to hold on better this way, but with their wrists broken and their hands purple, though they made the attempt, it wasn't going to happen.

His reactions were faster than Fae's dilemma however, as with a glance over his shoulder he could see their predicament and adjusted Ghaymah's stance so that Fae was sliding into him. Although undignified, Fae was grateful to be caught, and for the hand Claude extended back to grasp hold of their cape and collar between their shoulders.

"I've got you," he promised. "Don't worry."


	2. Unbreak My Crest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy spoilers, but some of the spoilers are wrong because I have taken scissors to the canon.
> 
> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

It took hours more to dispatch and disperse the enemy’s remaining forces, during which time Fae had been found to have four cracked ribs, a sprained ankle, two broken wrists and several lacerations. Magical healing would only do so much. Claude had mostly taken charge, with Alois and Seteth making appearances as the chaos calmed down.

Fae had insisted upon being tended to on a cot on a wall of the ramparts, needing to see the situation, and feel a part of it. While in truth their pain distracted them from looking far afield, from here they could finally see Claude at a distance. He was thicker, in muscle and fat, more like his father than when they had last seen him seven years ago. His hair was longer too, down about his shoulders with at least three small braids lost inside his locks. His beard extended to his chin, and was neatly groomed and bound. He looked as regal as any king had a right to be, and as handsome as Fae remembered.

They expected to feel some surprise at his presence now that the fight had ended, but they couldn't feel it. Of course he had been here when they'd needed him most. Where else could he have been but by their side?

Claude advance towards Fae alone, and they quashed their smile deep within themselves. He looked somber, worried, severe. It wouldn't do to be distracted by the novelty of his presence.

He balanced himself on the edge of their cot and extended a hand out to their bandaged chin.

"Why didn't you write to me that this was happening?"

Fae raised an arm as if to take hold of his hand, but their own were wrapped in bandages and splints and so they settled into the touch with a grimace. "You were supposed to be in Almyra. By the time news reached you, this battle would have been decided. There would have been no need to worry you without knowing the outcome."

He smiled sadly and tucked Fae's hair back behind their ear. "I was only a few days away. I heard what was happening by coincidence from locals gossiping about your messenger passing through Airmid. I wanted my arrival to be a surprise."

"It was," they teased.

"It was," he agreed, bringing his hand back to himself. "There are decisions to be made. About staying at Garreg Mach, about following the tunnels our enemies have made." Fae moved to sit up, but Claude pressed gently on their shoulder. "You can help with these decisions from here. I just wanted to prepare you."

"Will you be going?" Fae asked earnestly.

"I would feel more secure in going. In facing this threat to its conclusion, but I doubt my entourage would appreciate it. Unless you or Seteth ask me to go, I think I'll have to send champions on my behalf."

Fae moved to nod their understanding, but then squinted from the pain. Shaking their head at all sent their vision swimming and aggravated an otherwise dull headache. Claude winced sympathetically, and released their shoulder, trailing a fingertip down the length of their arm to just above their bandages.

"Wait," Fae whispered.

"Mm?"

"Thank you."

They insisted he help them into a sitting position, before a small council was convened. Alois kneeled and presented the Sword of the Creator, before realizing Fae had no way of grasping the thing, and gently leaning it by their side. He stood awkward and with a hand behind his back before bowing away to make room for Seteth and the Almyran lords Claude had brought with him.

"Your Eminence," Seteth began with a slight bow, and a sincere smile. "I am relieved to see that you yet live."

"And you, my friend," Fae answered softly. "How fares our people?"

"As well as can be expected. Better, thanks to your talents and foresight, not to say nothing of the skill of our generals or the timing of our allies, but we are not without losses. We were able to secure the safety of our students, civilians and ministers however, which was no mean feat in the resulting chaos." He paused, shifting his stance as he moved from good news to worse. "Garreg Mach on the other hand has suffered severe structural damage. There are concerns we could fall into the tunnel network our enemies have exposed us to, and more immediate worries about what else could crawl out of it."

"You have thoughts on these matters?"

"I do, Your Eminence. I say, the roots of the Monastery cut deep into the mountain, that while extensive repairs are required, that we should rely on our foundations to keep us from worrying about anything so mundane as a sinkhole."

Fae nodded and hazarded a glance at the others present, of them all, Alois looked the most skeptic, but this was hardly a surprise.

"And what of our enemies?"

Seteth nodded back at two mages who advanced with a tray in hand carrying the shattered Crest stone.

"Whatever we defeated was the result of great effort. Falsifying a Crest stone would not be a simple task. I suspect we could have them on the run, so much so that I would stake my life on it." His stance changed again as he took a knee, to be more at eye level with his sovereign. "I feel that I am most equipped to understand, assess, and if need be, face whatever manner of evil we might find at the end of these tunnels. I request permission to lead an expedition, or more accurately, a strike force, in pursuit of our enemies. Claude and Alois both have recommendations of capable fighters in their service, and I would reserve the bulk of our forces here with you, should I fail to find success."

"If you should find that they outnumber whatever forces you bring with you, or that there is some single force with the means to overpower your group - I order you to retreat. We do need answers, and you are best suited to the task, but your council is invaluable to Fodlan, and I despair at the idea of sending new friends and allies to their deaths within moments of our meeting."

The corner's of Seteth's mouth curled, and Fae struggled to tell if it was amusement or annoyance as he answered, "I trust I will prove to be a diligent commander."

The rest of the council was far more lively, but Fae couldn't quite keep their attention on the exchanges between Almyran lords and Fodlani commanders. They thought about excusing themselves, but waited far too long to do so, passing out sometime while their proxies seemed to still have each situation well in hand, even if not all concerns could be remedied.

The forces would bring some horses with supplies underground, but would leave behind wyverns and pegasi because of their food requirements and the unlikelihood that the underground travel would be accommodating to winged beasts. One of the Almyran warriors seemed to take special offence at being parted from her mount when this news was shared, exploding at Seteth if he even knew why their forces had come this far into Fodlan. He exchanged eyes with Claude, who answered in his stead that the Almyran forces were here because their king and country demanded it be so for the peace and benefit of all Almyrans, and defeating a force that wields constructs like the ones they faced would surely be to that same benefit. He then offered her leave to remain above ground, a soft enough insult to her convictions to silence her upset.

Claude was with Hanneman and some mages sometime the following day, cleaning the cubed Crest stone when a messenger interrupted their efforts to say Their Eminence had awoken and requested an audience with the King of Almyra, at his convenience, at least one hour hence. Despite being surprised at a required delay at their reunion, he was pleased they had awoken, and amused with the messenger who was so clearly unfamiliar with who he was. Claude winked at the messenger and acknowledged that he understood.

"Goddess," Hanneman whispered, a curse.

When Claude turned his attention back to the subject of their work, he found that the fluid within the glass or resin had been finally drained away, revealing what it was that was preserved inside.

"A heart?" he said aloud, taking a step towards the group.

"A human heart, judging by the size," Hanneman observed before his face alit with realization and he posited, "maybe even a heart of one who wielded a Crest? You there, prepare this to be transported again. Maybe one of the glaziers can help us untangle the pieces to rebuild the Crest symbol that was here? Or at least retrieve the heart for study."

The extent of their discovery was horrific, and Claude wished there'd been some way to provide this information to Seteth and his father before they had ventured into the dark. Even so, he was relieved to have more information, and could only hope that what they had learned could be put to better use when the expedition returned.

As he turned the corner on the third floor, accompanied by an Almyran squire and Fodlani steward, Claude paused at the sight on the balcony. Fae wore a pale green dress with two slits up the front to rival Manuela's favorite outfits. They sat with one leg propped up on an adjacent chair, their ankle wrapped in clean white towels, the other dangling by their side. Each arm was wrapped in braces, fingers curled around a steaming mug upon the table.

This was not how he remembered them. Plump and delicate, with so much fair skin open to the elements. Their hair was longer too, amazingly so; the longest segment at the base of their head extending down past the seat of the chair, the rest up in a messy bun on the side of their head. However when they looked at him, with that delicate smile which betrayed all their affection, he could see all the years and letters between them, besides just the memories of what they used to be to each other.

"Your Majesty," Fae greeted with a wave of their hand, "please, sit with me."

Claude could feel the blush in his cheeks upon being addressed so formally by his old friend. As he moved to comply, they called out to the Fodlani steward by name, and asked for them to gather chairs for themselves and their other Almyran guest. Claude squinted incredulously, struggling not to gape at his suspicions, before sharing a wink with the sovereign and turning to his own escort and suggesting they assist their hosts with this task. The look the squire gave him bored holes into Claude's soul, but even so, they acquiesced with a nod and followed the steward down the hall.

Instead of continuing to take his seat, Claude hovered a moment before approaching his betrothed. Fae reached out their arms toward him, and he bent to meet their embrace with a sick and swollen heart. He pulled back just enough to tilt his head up and meet their lips in a long soft kiss, tangling his fingers in their hair and the chain about their neck.

"They're definitely going to tell someone we were left without a chaperone," he warned, still with a heat warming his skin.

"Won't that be fun," Fae teased, the smile on their face wider than those Claude held so deeply in memory, teeth lighting their face with joy and mischief.

As Claude scoffed, he spun their necklace around his forefinger in three gentle loops before looking down across their figure to the glittering jewel below their collarbone.

"My ring?" he asked, doubtful even of the sight before him.

Fae reached up to run their thumb along the edge of his jaw, tickling themselves on his beard. "You haven't yet placed it on my hand."

He leaned forward again and placed a warm kiss to their forehead, before separating himself, and taking the seat across from them. He answered with an honest sadness, "That might still be months yet."

They raised an eyebrow as they reached for their mug with both hands, blowing softly on the steam as they chastised, "Then you're running very late."

"I am ever at the mercy of your virtue," Claude conceded as he reviewed the table and set to pouring himself a cup of tea, seeing there was no way to recover from this criticism.

"Claude," Fae whispered, and he hadn't realized hearing them say his name after so long would cause the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. He looked at them with his full attention. "You're right on time. I trust that whatever Seteth discovers won't delay our scheming."

Fae drank deep of their mug, and before Claude could reply, he watched them reach for their chin in pain. They took their jaw between thumb and forefinger, enveloping the bandage that covered the space. When their hand came away, a bloom of fresh blood appeared on the gauze.

"Are you alright?" Claude fussed, leaning across the table as if to touch their face, but Fae raised a hand between them as they eyed the door.

"Fine. I'm sure it's just the warmth of my broth, I hadn't thought it would reopen the wound, but I'll have someone clean it shortly." They moved to adjust their chair without thinking of their propped leg and winced before covering their eyes with both hands and taking a deep breath.

Recomposed, they sat up straight and rest their hands on the table gently, and Claude worried about the years and facade between them. He wanted to beg them to be honest, to let him fetch a balm, to do something more than sit here like a strange dignitary. Were their written conversations the truth of their relationship, or was it this stifled reality?

"Nevermind. Do you have news? I intend to meet with my ministers on the morrow. I do not know whether you would be welcome at such a meeting, and I suspect they will view the situation at the Monastery as internal Fodlan business despite your presence and heroism."

Claude sighed and slouched against the table as he recited the news Fae requested: of their losses, the required repairs, the traders who were waffling on whether they wanted to stay within the Monastery or move to the city beyond. It was during this exchange that the squire and steward returned, setting chairs to either side of the doorway to the balcony, facing their superiors.

"Also," Claude continued, "Hanneman has cleaned and cut the cubed Crest Stone. Inside he found a preserved human heart, with a Minor Crest of Cichol."

Fae twitched. "You didn't think you should lead with this?" Claude faltered and so they pressed on, "Who else knows of this?"

"At least three mages, and now, our attendants, I guess."

Fae turned to their steward in a fury, and ordered them to fetch Hanneman, and any others who'd assisted or overseen the work with this infernal Crest Stone, and to bring them here immediately.

"What is it?" Claude asked quietly, desperately.

Fae brought a hand over their face and shook their head before cooing at him, "If I answer that question, I'm going to yell at you. Are you ready for that?"

Claude felt his heart break, but still he nodded. Fae nodded too and looked mournfully at their raised leg. "Then help me stand, we'll do this inside."

As Claude moved to do so, Fae nodded at his squire, "You trust him, yes?"

"With my life," Claude answered.

"Good," Fae conceded, "then he can be our chaperone."

Claude could feel himself shrinking as he helped the Sovereign of Fodlan to their bedchamber, his squire in tow. It was the only secure room on the third floor. A guard was posted at the top of the stairs they passed by. Surely they would be raising an eyebrow at least, but they didn't object or call out, and this only made Claude more nervous.

There were two chairs in the room, and Claude gestured to his squire to turn one so that he could deposit Fae into it. They proceeded to ask the squire to close the door, but stay inside. As it shut, the air in the room felt stagnant, ill. Blood saturated the bandage on Fae's chin, but Claude thought better of pointing it out at the moment.

"What is it?" they mocked him, mirthless; clutching the ring around their neck in one hand as they turned away from facing him for a moment, their eyes filling with tears. "Me, I'm it. I am the problem. I have never been myself my whole life. My heart exchanged for that of a Crest Stone, of a goddess.

"My father and I were best friends, and Rhea and the Monastery stole him from me. And then Sothis and I ... we were beyond close, and through my own errors, I lost her too, whatever she may have been. And now I've just been imprisoned here, alone, with promises of reunion that as of yet go unfulfilled, unaddressed.

"Seteth and Alois are as my family, but neither would hear of these worries of mine. Seteth because he thinks such things are better unspoken and Alois because it is beyond him. Well it is beyond me. But it is my life.

"I am the inverse and the foil of the great construct in the courtyard. I am a person with a Crest Stone for a heart. Why wouldn't there be a construct with a heart for a Crest stone? How many more could there be? Will others learn of this, outside those who slither in the dark, with a desire to kill those with Crests to manufacture their own Crest Stones? Will they implant their children born without Crests with Crest Stones to act as their hearts as Rhea did to me?

"I just. I can't believe you didn't hear it when you said it, or that it didn't even occur to you as you told me." Fae was crying now and, separated by time and propriety, Claude could do nothing. "I ... am gathering the others to ask for their secrecy, but I don't even know what I could offer them to secure it. This can't get out."

Fae said the rest to themselves, in their mind, knowing even these thoughts would be too much for closed doors, 'But I won't be Rhea, and I won't be Edelgard ... I can't wield death as a means of control.'

A long silence followed as Fae tried to catch their breath, burying their face in their hands. Claude was ... shaken, it was the most he'd ever heard Fae speak uninterrupted outside of a Seminar, and they had done so to express such profound sadness.

"If I may, Your Eminence," spoke the squire, to the surprise of both royals, "I'm sure my King and I won't say anything, so, so far that's two for two, of people who know of ... whatever this is that I barely understand, who will swear to secrecy."

"Yes," Claude appended, "I'm sure Hanneman wouldn't work with anyone he didn't trust." He bowed before them. "We won't let war break out over this."

If Claude had felt a distance between himself and Fae before, it was nothing compared to now, as they gave him their most polite regal smile and asked he and his squire to leave them, and await their return on the balcony; and to please send their steward, should they return.

Defeated, he did as requested. In total there turned out to be three guards, four engineers, three mages - one of whom was from Almyra, and Hanneman who knew of the truth and labour behind the Heart Stone, besides Claude and the two servants he'd accidentally involved in this mess. The motley crew made awkward and hushed conversation, huddled on the balcony as they were.

Fae's steward had disappeared into the sovereign's bedchambers with a wheeled wicker chair and emerged some time later pushing them outside. Besides their face being cleaned and their bandages replaced, Claude wondered at their dress being changed, as Fae emerged in a much more conservative sunset purple dress.

The ensuing conversation was ... reserved. The engineers were excused first, being told that they would not mention their involvement in the situation. The others were given a more detailed and calm explanation of the implications of their work, and why their findings must never be shared with anyone, and that any efforts made to recreate a Heart Stone would be met with swift justice. And then they were excused.

Claude hesitated in the doorway as the others left. He knew he should follow them. That he should leave. He just had to turn away from Fae. They needed their space anyway. Yet he was walking toward them, past Fae's steward who still stood in the doorway, who looked extremely uncomfortable to let him pass.

"Fae," he called out, heedless of their titles. They looked up at him with large shocked eyes, and waved off their steward who was advancing on Claude. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't," they insisted and Claude nearly lost his mind to despair, but Fae thankfully continued quickly. "Don't apologize. You haven't done anything wrong, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like you had."

Claude's hands twitched by his sides as he looked away from Fae's patient expression as he took a breath. He faced them once more as he conceded. "At the very least, you can rest assured that I will be more considerate in the future, especially when it comes to these enemies who have cut you so deeply."

He could feel so many sets of eyes on his back. He wondered whether more than their attendants were watching his embarrassing display.

Claude bowed deeply, just standing in Fae's presence for a moment longer before he straightened up and whispered, "Good night, Your Eminence."

Fae didn't exactly smile at him, and in fact to others, he doubted it would have appeared as if their expression had changed at all, but the way their eyes glittered in the dimming light, Claude could see in them the sort of microexpressions he had been used to searching for. They were smiling.

"Good night, Your Majesty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally said I was going to post weekly updates, but it's all finished now, so I'm just going to post it. The characters might been hurting a little this chapter, but the fic is fluff overall; with happy endings and lots of love. Let me know what you think, and if you saw any typos I should fix. Hope you're enjoying it.


	3. Bound By More Than Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy spoilers, but some of the spoilers are wrong because I have taken scissors to the canon.
> 
> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

The following morning, Fae awoke at a reasonable hour. Still unable to put their full weight on their ankle, or any weight on their wrists, they would be confined to the make-shift wheelchair someone had propped together for them the day prior. This would mean needing to be carried from the third floor of the Monastery if they wished to see their subjects.

Therefore, to start the day they requested a warm bath be drawn, and their bandages replaced once more. Besides public appearances, there was just the general embarrassment of being seen and touched and carried; better behind closed doors, by Manuela and their steward.

By mid-afternoon, Fae had time to confer with Alois, discuss with those tasked with deconstructing and removing the strange technology that littered the Monastery, and take what was almost a usual session of Council with their Ministers in one of the classrooms. Despite the pressing concerns, they chose to leave their meeting far sooner than they even would normally, due to the nature of the repairs and the injuries of their sovereign.

Often, after such meetings, Fae would find themselves tucked away in a corner for lunch with any letters or correspondence to review. Seteth counselled against eating in front of subordinates, as it granted an easy privilege to anyone you might need to praise, and instilled a healthy measure of fear in those who never saw you taking a moment of repose. They could remember his exact amusement as he revealed this strategy, inquiring as to whether they had felt privileged by his company when he would deign to eat with them when they were a professor. They had.

Today would offer no such corners, as Fae refused to be brought up and down staircases anymore than was required throughout the day. This meant eating somewhere public twice in the same day. They raised a hand to their mouth as they realized that they should also probably give something of a public address, to assure the masses of their security, their efforts to find and handle any threat, and that their friendships should extend to the Almyrans gliding through their skies.

Fae had been assured that the Almyrans were coordinating their extra wyverns to lift and relocate rubble, as a number of riders had followed Seteth into the tunnels. This meant that their two peoples were having some positive interaction, at least.

Too late for lunch, and too early for dinner, Fae felt it would hardly be a privilege to waste someone's time to have them watch them eat. They wondered what Rhea would have done in their position, even knowing she would probably have suffered being carried away for their meals. Still, Fae asked their steward to bring them to the dining hall, where they would take a light meal.

They extended a polite smile to any who dared to meet their eye, but as they suspected, their presence was met with confusion and fascination by the few who found themselves here at this time of day, which was, by chance, a large number of the students. Of course there would be a delay in classes, Fae shouldn't have been surprised to see them. Their steward left them alone in the crowd, with the protection of two guards watching their person, as they fetched their food and correspondence.

Fae bristled at another helping of soup, but they hardly had the wrist strength to cut their own meats, and so it was probably for the best, to not appear broken and pampered in front of the gossiping youths. They reached for a lump of thick bread as they flipped through the news. Two small envelopes from some of the very same ministers they had just left, some reports on forces retreating into what was once Adrestian territory arrested by a local lord, the requests to cut ancient trees to entirely replace the drawbridge at the entrance to the Monastery, and ... a letter from Claude. It was addressed formally on the envelope, which caused Fae to raise an eyebrow and lean forward to look about and out the windows, looking for him.

They saved it for last, knowing they might need to be wheeled out of the dining hall to read it to completion to hide any drastic emotions depending on what it was he thought he had to say by passing notes.

My beautiful Darling,

Whether by the will of Sothis, some other force or by coincidence, I am so grateful to have returned when I did. Of course I regret not being here sooner, for a multitude of reasons, //// I would have lost my mind if I hadn't rushed here when I did. If I'd returned to find that those who slither in the dark had toppled the Monastery, even killed you, two days prior to my arrival ... I would be a different man than I am here and now.

/// To have you cut from my life after all we have been through... I still love you, my darling. /

And it felt as though you may have forgotten what that means to me? I want to trust you with everything, with the truth of me, with my life and motivations, and emotions; and I want to feel that you would trust me with these secrets of yours. I don't want you ever to feel as though you have to be as bottled as you felt about your sorrow. //// There's no need to let your emotions build up like that. I know I haven't been HERE, but I've always meant to be here for you - why else the letters?

If there are some things you do not trust in writing, then please take the time to find someone who can help with what weighs on you.

I feel like such a fool and an ass for not questioning whether what you were including in your letters was all that was on your mind. Have I really only had a glimpse of you all these years? Do you think we could ever be as we were? ////////

I guess I shouldn't try sneaking into Seteth's office while he's away, should I? I feel like there would be more information in medical records, whether in the library or that he's confiscated, that I wouldn't have thought to look through when I was researching Crests all those years ago. If I were caught doing anything of the kind now, I guess that would look more like an invasion? an insurrection? a bad thing. 

I promise I won't cause a diplomatic incident.

At least, not until I issue a public proposal. (Propose to you publicly? What is the correct way to say this?)

// I would say that I'm blessed, as so many of my friendships are incomparable, but above all else, I've always valued our relationship highest. I'm here whenever you want to talk or write of your father and fears. Maybe it would be easier in writing? Until our respective allies trust us to be alone together again.

Still. We got away with that for a while today, didn't we?

~~~ It was heaven to kiss you. I'm so thankful for your strength. If I'd broken both of my wrists defending the two of us, I would be whining far more about being able to do Mundane tasks - let alone being hindered from holding you.

Please let me hold you again soon. My heart and body ache just to think of it.

\---- Another need for which I'd lament broken wrists.

I won't hold you to a reply so long as you can't hold a pen. I just thought, something familiar between us might make you smile.

I love you.

Forever yours,

Claude x

That afternoon, soldiers of House Gloucester made a show of their arrival. Fae was glad of it and responded in kind by meeting with her old friend, Duke Lorenz, at the center of the marketplace, where the bulk of the bustle hurried debris from the fight to outside of the city gates, to be taken to quarry.

They watched Lorenz's jaw clench and set, first with worry and then professionalism as he moved from his horse to a kneeling position.

"Your Eminence," he greeted, raising his head, "it is to my shame that we did not arrive in time to aid in your summons."

"Rise, your Grace, we are happy to receive you. Garreg Mach can still benefit greatly from the efforts of you and your soldiers, and we would be remiss to squander the gift of your presence."

A wyvern flew overhead as Lorenz took to standing, and he smiled vaguely at the passing shadow.

"It is our pleasure to assist in your recovery, your Eminence." He placed a hand over his heart. "It offers no small measure of relief that the Almyrans were able to arrive when they did."

"Yes," Fae said with a wicked grin, "what a mystery that King Claude was able to pass so far through your territory without an announcement to our royal ear."

Lorenz blustered, blushing, "It seemed appropriate, at the time. The Almyrans were diligent in accommodating all our concerns at the border, and there seemed no reason to delay an old friend after relations had -"

Fae raised a hand, silencing him. "That was unjust of me, your Grace. You've yet done nothing in office that I would not do myself. You have my trust, implicitly." They turned to Alois, "Guard Captain? Please, help his Grace's commanders divide our new soldiers to set a more permanent guard by the tunnels, and clear out the rubble in the Cathedral."

"Right away, Sister, er-" Alois hesitated, but Fae waved him off with a friendly smile, not wanting to be caught up in his ceaseless apologies.

"Your Grace, will you walk with me?"

Ushered along by their steward, Fae and Lorenz made their way up the ramped surface to the back of the stables.

"The tunnels, your Eminence?" Lorenz queried.

Fae wrapped a splinted arm around themselves in a gesture of simple comfort as they recounted the strange and wicked nature of their enemies for the duke. After listening to his sovereign's harrowing tale, Lorenz's face was twisted in mournful concentration.

"Then we are not safe? We know not how much of our enemies' resources were expended upon this attack?"

"This is true," Fae allowed, "but I suspect this was more than a simple testing of our defenses, and I have faith that Seteth will be returning with the truth of our adversaries within the week."

Lorenz shook his head. "That is hardly comforting. I would like to send a small company of -"

"Not yet," Fae interrupted. "I will hear your concerns on this matter in two days time, but for now I do not wish to risk complicating the playing field."

"Of course," Lorenz acquiesced with a nod. "My apologies."

"You are forgiven, my friend," Fae assured him. "I understand the desire to do all one can to reduce the losses of your people."

Lorenz smiled weakly at his feet before pursing his lips and moving to stand before Fae, their steward stopping their trek just shy of the courtyard. "Then while you are in a forgiving mood, let me overstep once more and ask: what are the extent of your injuries?"

Fae felt themselves flush under Lorenz's open concern. They pointed to their chin, "This one may scar," and then to their ankle, "and here; but otherwise they are simply broken bones on the mend. I do not sit, dying before you."

"That is good," Lorenz said simply as his shoulders eased and his expression softened. "Fodlan yet has need of you, much as I do."

Despite having recently sent a messenger to Claude inviting his forces to the Reception Hall this evening, Fae brought the duke to their visiting king as a matter of order. Claude was more composed than the sovereign might have expected, but still pushed Lorenz's boundaries of professionalism. In the least, Lorenz seemed affectionately annoyed with the foreign king, scolding him with the fact that they'd seen each other within the past fortnight.

They shared a laugh and inquired into the state of Lorenz's family. He confirmed that Hilda both regretted being unable to attend, and would surely have choice words for him upon his return, for leaving so soon after the birth of their second.

"I will have to find a gift of proper magnitude for her Grace's generosity in lending you to us then," Fae chuckled.

The trio found themselves pulled away to deal with the affairs of their subjects after short conversation, and weren't reunited again until it was time for Fae to speak in the Reception Hall. Lorenz wrinkled his nose in amusement when he caught sight of the open adoration and silent adulation pouring off the King of Almyra as Fae gave their address. Despite having shared many and more meals and trade agreements with the Almyrans in the two years since Claude's assent to the throne, Lorenz still wouldn't guess what the Almyrans present might think of such a thing. He bristled a little, worried that Claude would ruin years of good relations for simple frivolity, but then as Fae welcomed the gathered masses in the Reception Hall to enjoy their dinner, he laughed.

"What's tickled your funny bone?" asked Claude.

They were accompanied by ranking soldiers in each their services, and between them sat three empty seats, so Lorenz hesitated with a smile before replying, "It's just that you're here less than a day and you have me falling into old habits."

Claude squinted at his old friend, and Lorenz noted that he had a considerable number of wrinkles about his eyes for a man of thirty-one. He assumed that must've been a result of whipping around on a wyvern in the eastern sun.

"Good habits?" Claude was teasing, and Lorenz laughed again with the table.

"Those are the only kind I have," he agreed. He couldn't mean it of course, but at least in this regard, he would consider the relevant behaviours to be good habits.

Since holding the highest rank below the Sovereign of Fodlan, he'd not had a chance to foster little rebellious and healthy skeptic thoughts of a ruling power. Questioning the motivations of his enemies and allies had always been an exemplary way for Lorenz to reflect and find personal growth.

"Was that the first time you'd heard their Eminence speak?" Lorenz asked absently. He nodded and whispered a small thank you to the servant setting a plate before him.

"It was."

Lorenz had to stifle a laugh this time; times were serious, though this was not.

"They were quite poised, no? But if you'll remember from their Seminars, it wasn't always such." Claude's eyes widened in realization and so Lorenz raised a finger to hush him; it wouldn't do to gossip in front of strangers. He, at least, would know how much information was public, and could lead the conversation. "Seteth was ... indispensable to the crown when Sovereign Faedolyn first came into power. They needed no small amount of lessons in etiquette and public speaking." He turned to the man next to him and elaborated, gently, "Their Eminence was simply too curt and straightforward. Their affection for the people and professionalism to their supporters were always staunch, but they simply weren't accustomed to navigating that sort of conversation."

When Lorenz looked back to Claude, he saw that the man looked more somber and sullen. His heart panged at the prospect that he had needlessly brought attention to a hardship Claude had exposed Fae to, when in truth it was something the three of them, and all of Fodlan, were better for. His opportunity to apologize or explain was stolen though, as Alois and a servant removed the central seat between them, leaving room for Fae to be ushered forward by their attendant to sit at the table.

Alois sat to their left side, leaving an empty seat to their right, between them and Lorenz; reserved for the ever absent Seteth.

"Gentlemen," Fae said by way of greeting, seemingly addressing the table before nodding specifically to those at the table who held title, and hailing them directly. "I trust your needs are being accommodated?"

A gentle assent murmured across the table as Fae adjusted themselves closer to their plate; the faces of their closest confidants falling when they noticed their food had been precut, to save their sovereign the embarrassment of any struggle with their utensils.

Whereas Fae's speech had been a call to action, a promise of peace and victory, the conversation was an exchange of thanks and Fae's hopes that all who had come to their aid could soon return home, whether to Leicester or Almyra. They asked after stories of their foreign champions, which Claude and his entourage were happy to accommodate. While the tales began as descriptions feats of strength and vigor, they quickly gave way to jokes of weather and cuisine, memories of loved ones, and concern about the lax breeding laws of wyverns and livestock in Fodlan.

As the evening wore on, Alois was the first of their table to excuse himself for the night. This left Fae with an empty seat to either side of themselves. They contributed far less to the conversation afterwards, depressed by the literal and metaphorical distance between them and their old friends. It was only when Lorenz stood to excuse himself to write a letter for Hilda that Fae realized their concerns were just the worries of a frantic mind, so lonely with the absence of their once ever-present friend, and that the truth of the matter was that they were closer with either of their old friends than they ever had been, with long held secrets and open familiarity gilding the edges of their every interaction.

Fae was yawning as the last members of their table bid them a good night, save Claude. The hall was mostly empty now, six guests at scattered tables, a guard by each doorway, and Fae's attendant.

"Have I kept you up?" Claude asked, and Fae had a hard time deciphering whether he was teasing. Regardless, they waved him off with a shake of their head.

"Only a little," Fae answered. "I wanted to be one of the last to leave the hall ... Fewer people to see me carried up two flights of stairs that way."

"I could help with that," he offered with a wicked wink.

Fae's lips and eyebrows twisted into an expression of disappointment and Claude couldn't guess whether it was disappointment that he should not help with this, or with his horrible manners to even say such a thing. He did his best to look sheepish.

"Would you like me to leave you for the night, so that you can ask your guards to carry you, then?" he asked, more politely.

"No, please," they said with a soft smile, their eyes darting about the room at the others, caught in conversation or half asleep where they stood. Fae extended an arm towards him. "Come sit beside me."

Claude could feel himself blushing as he squeaked his chair across the floor. He raised a hand delicately as he braced himself, releasing a breath when he had the confidence to move again. Next to Fae, Claude could really perceive that they were as short as they seemed, and that it wasn't the wheelchair or the slouching. He remembered them being taller, larger than life; though of course he remembered he'd been taller, and able to look down into their ethereal eyes.

"Hello there," he teased.

"Good evening," they answered.

"Heh," Claude guffawed. "You've really been speaking with Fodlan nobles for nearly a decade? I remember when you might've said 'hey.'"

"Oh?" Fae peeped, realizing that it probably had been years since they'd spoken so informally. They wondered if Claude's speech patterns had changed, the memory of his voice was jumbled up with the voice of the man at their side, they felt horrible being unable to remember.

"It's nothing," Claude assured them, concerned he'd sounded judgmental. "I could still listen to you read a dictionary."

"What about a charter?" Fae asked, rolling their arm around the side of their armrest, so that the back of their hand pressed against Claude's. Their face was all hope and desperation as they asked, "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

If he had blushed before, Claude knew he was surely flushed now, with Fae begging that he was here to stay, that all their years of scheming were but a heartbeat from fruition. He held himself in suspense as much as them, swallowing his excitement. He reached out a hand as if to adjust their hair, but stopped at the last minute, instead swiping back his own locks.

"I do have it with me," he confirmed, scratching the back of his head in as much of a nonchalant way as he could manage.

They gasped and moved to sit up too quickly, hurting their wrists on their armrests. They winced through their excitement as they asked, "You convinced Lord Sarim?"

"All of the Almyran lords would be willing to consider Fodlan's answer," Claude assured them, his voice breaking as his hand hovered awkwardly over their shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself," he chastised.

"Says the man who dropped me from a wyvern—"

"I—"

"Saved me. You saved me, Claude. The joke was in poor taste." Fae looked down at their arms before wrapping them around themselves as well as they could. "I knew that the battle was going to break or kill me." They turned to him, tears and a bittersweet smile. "How could I write to you, saying that I was likely to fail, when we were so close to realizing our goals. To say that I'd lost some of the most powerful people in Fodlan, and the children of many nobles. That I'd—"

"You didn't," Claude said firmly, cutting off Fae's spiral before they got too far. "Everything is turning out. Whatever news Seteth brings back, we'll deal with." He sighed. "Don't ... go dying on me or anything, but, you don't have to feel guilty if you set back our plans. I know, and now everyone knows, if they didn't before, how tirelessly you work. And how you would be willing to die for your people. How could I not love you for this?"

"Claude," Fae hissed, concerned about his carelessness in using the 'l' word so openly ... Before placing a hand over their own mouth, realizing that at least twice now they'd referred to him solely by name. He chuckled.

The sound of his joy was cut short by a shout and a bang on the far side of the Reception Hall. Claude threw his chair back as he took to his feet, the guards across the room bringing themselves to attention. As the doors swung open, the room heaved a collective sigh of relief as Seteth led a charge into the Reception Hall.

"Your Eminence," Seteth greeted; his eyes were kind, but his expression was stern, and his outfit was stained with blood and dirt.

"My Lord Chamberlain," Fae answered warmly, affection and delight setting them at ease. "I can see by the state of you that your adventures bore fruit. Tell me, did all who journeyed with you find their way back to us?"

"They did," Seteth answered, though his tone was unsteady as his eyes darted to Claude, "but one of the Almyrans was severely injured. Lady Rumaisa is in surgery in the city as we speak."

"Where?" Claude all but shouted as he took to nearly running around the table.

"I can take you," a soldier in Seteth's entourage answered with a salute, as the two of them ran from the Reception Hall.

"I would request that we make our way somewhere more private as well. I can assure you only that there currently stands no immediate danger to Garreg Mach."

As Seteth recounted their journey, Fae could feel his carefully curated layers of professionalism and propriety splintering under the weight of his rage. It had been years since they'd seen him so angry, and it hurt to feel so powerless in the wake of his pain. They'd waged bloody and decisive battle in the underground, leaving but one scientist to be questioned on the resources left to those who slither in the dark. Seteth was ashamed that as he reviewed the documents, journals and letters in the monster's laboratory, he realized the truth of what he was looking at, and saw that they had agents in Adrestia with information about Flayn, and his reaction cost them the scientist.

Those who slither in the dark had previously seen success in transferring a Crest from one host to another, by means of heart transplants. As well as great magical "accomplishments" through use of particularly powerful Crest blood. It was with the intent to kill or capture Fae that there had been the most recent attack on Garreg Mach, and while it didn't appear that those who slither in the dark were the ones who might next be after Flayn, three prominent imperialist nobles would be the next threat upon his family. The destruction heaved upon the monastery by this alliance of enemies had Seteth in quite a fit.

During their conversation, he prepared three letters: one for Flayn, one for Duke Ferdinand, and one for the lord of house Hevring, to be sent by carrier pigeon. As he tried to bring their conversation to a close, Seteth implied that he was about to ride to Hevring, with or without accompaniment.

"Seteth, stop," Fae ordered, a hand on his hip as he turned to leave.

"You'd forbid me to go?" he asked, incredulous.

"I will forbid you to go until morning, at least," Fae insisted. "Change your clothes. Wash your face. Rest. I will see to it your letters are sent. I will also send for the arrest of our conspirators, and arrange for another expedition into the tunnels, to ensure they are empty before we begin refilling them. I know you are panicked, and not without reason, but we can have some faith in Adrestia's army, and especially in house Hevring, you know they dote on Flayn."

"If a few hours changed in my departure could mean the life of my sister—"

"They won't," Fae said with a confidence they could not have, but it was already nearly morning, and it was obvious that Seteth had gone a long time without sleep. "You'll be no use to her if you kill yourself to get there."

Seteth's broken smile was heart wrenching. "Very well. I'll try to get some sleep, but in the morning I—"

"Will gather some flyers from Duke Lorenz. He's staying in town. Then you can away to Hevring and Adrestia, to ensure the safety of our family."

Seteth nodded gratefully, moving his hand down to touch the cast around Fae's wrist before pressing on.

After fulfilling their duties, Fae wondered about heading into town, but thought of all the stairs and inconveniences. They determined that with so much destroyed and in need of rebuilding that many more accommodations needed to be assessed in the reconstruction, surely there were more people than they who needed them. Instead, they asked their guard to carry them up to the third floor and their bedroom, allowing their exhausted attendant to assist in undressing them and laying them back against their comforting sheets.

All dead, as far as Seteth could tell, no more slithering in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like Claude's letter? I imagine the slashes indicate words or lines that he's crossed out, that the tilde's indicate a flourish on the page, and the dashes were meant to represent that this particular line was written more on the opposite side of the page. Thank you so much for sticking with me so far! I'd appreciate anyone offering feedback in the comments!


	4. A Prospective Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy spoilers, but some of the spoilers are wrong because I have taken scissors to the canon.
> 
> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

The following day Seteth did as his sovereign had commanded, or at least suggested, and along with a troop of flyers from Leicester, found that a number of nobles of Almyra also insisted upon following him to the completion of this threat. Lady Rumaisa's surgery had gone well, but she needed to remain bedridden for a time, much to her dismay. Within the week Seteth had returned, three very frightened Adrestian nobles in his custody.

During the time spent awaiting his return, Claude and Fae had invited Hanneman to review the documents Seteth had recovered in the Ambassador's Lounge.

"What if one were to remove the heart?" Claude queried, tracing a hand over the anatomical illustrations he’d been pondering.

"What do you mean?" asked Hanneman. "Besides the obvious answer of, one needs a heart to live."

"I mean, it's ... obvious? Or at least, very likely, that this is what was done to Lysithea. That she possessed one Crest, and after a successful transplant, they'd given her a second one."

"So you're proposing that if she were to undergo another transplant with the heart of one who did not possess a Crest, that we could remove a Crest?"

"I could write to Lysithea, and ask if she has the scars to indicate such a surgery, but even if that were true … a heart transplant without any connection to Crests sounds like an extremely risky undertaking, with an additional factor like Crest manipulation, even the words sound like ..." Fae faltered.

"I know," Claude admitted, "a death sentence. But ... I've heard that Lady Lysithea hasn't left her estate in over a year. If we've been given something that could give her back some strength, prolong her life, and give us insight into the situation that could affect others now or in the future ... I do think we should consult her on it."

The following day the imperialists were sentenced. Fae ordered them imprisoned for their crimes, for a minimum of five years, at which time, they and their families could make a case for why or whether they should be allowed back into Fodlani society. It was the strangest sentencing many had ever seen, with many judgmental eyes obviously imploring Fae to call for their execution, but they knew very personally what it felt like to lose five years, and how much one or the world could change within that time, and so the command stood.

By now, Fae had rebuilt the strength in their ankle, and was able to walk about the Monastery; still overseen very carefully by their attendant and guards, as their hands remained effectively useless, held together with splints, broken wrists stubbornly refusing to mend. Fae could feel many sets of eyes widen as Claude and a group of five approached them while they sat by their parents' grave.

"Your Majesty," Fae greeted, allowing their attendant to help them into a standing position.

"I hope we're not interrupting," said Claude with a bow.

Fae raised a hand to their chest as they looked down at the headstone. "I'm sure they can wait," they answered with a small smile.

"I know that the conflict we found ourselves caught up in upon our arrival a few weeks ago has only just come to its conclusion, but I have a number of increasingly impatient ... Almyran lords who wish for a proper introduction to the Sovereign of Fodlan."

"And not all Almyran," corrected two conflicting women's voices that fell into laughter.

Claude stepped aside so that Fae could more easily view the gathered crowd. For one, Fae knew the Hero of Daphnel, and smiled at the sight of Judith. Next to her however, was a woman who was obviously a close relation, with short and curled chestnut hair and deep green eyes, and muscles to rival any of the other soldiers present.

"Lady Judith," Fae began, nodding their head respectfully.

"Of course you know the Hero of Daphnel," Claude confirmed, his smile spreading from his face into his stature, "but I know you've yet to have a proper introduction to her cousin, my mother, Rebecca the Demon's Bane."

Rebecca leaned forward, having at least half a foot on Fae's meager height, a wicked smile which stretched a scar on one cheek and displayed two broken teeth spread across her features. Fae could see how Nader would've been smitten. "I understand you were once known as the Ashen Demon," she teased with a wink, "best watch your back."

"How many times did I beg you not to make that joke," asked Claude, affectionate irritation in his voice as he adjusted his hair.

"Too few, it would seem," Judith laughed.

Fae's face was a deep red as they looked about the crowd. Their heart swelled.

"I'm just now realizing that this isn't a political appointment, but rather a hazing of sorts," they said with a smile.

"No, it's not—" Claude started before he straightened his mouth in a line and then looked at his companions, "that's exactly what this is, isn't it?"

"Hardly. Their Eminence can't yet hold a weapon, or the reigns of a wyvern," mocked a large familiar man. "We'll have to test them at a later time."

"Nader the Undefeated, it is good to finally meet you without pretense," Fae greeted. "Though you might not think so — I've yet to try my hands at the reigns of a wyvern."

He threw a hand over his heart in mock injury, while Rebecca berated Claude, "If that's going to be anyone's fault but your own, it's definitely my son's. You've never thought it was a skill they should learn?"

"There has always been other things going on," Claude retorted.

Fae chuckled along with the others, and was happy to meet Lady Rumaisa and Lord Sarim, cousins of Claude's who had been closer to the Almyran throne than he.

Sarim was still far more skeptic of the people of Fodlan than the rest of his court, and held animosity towards Claude, having been next in line to be King but three years ago. Still, he was polite and sharp, and not beyond friendship or negotiation to hear Claude tell it.

Meanwhile Rumaisa was proud of her contributions to the expedition into the tunnels, but lamented that her injury was received on horseback, when she was so clearly superior when astride the skies.

It was clear that since Claude had returned, he'd succeeded in convincing his mother to reach back out to the family that had previously disowned her. Judith was far more amicable towards the Almyrans than Fae's memories of the woman who insulted Nader. If he held a grudge, he hid it well.

The afternoon reminded Fae of being at camp with their father's mercenary company. Conflicts were superficial, and there was a refreshing underlying warmth in the conversation that exposed their trust. Fae wondered how obvious it was to the group how much it meant to them that this trust was even hinted at being extended to them.

It must've been obvious, as at one point Nader laid a had on their shoulder, quickly pulling away as he seemingly realized that this may have been a too familiar act.

"My apologies," he began.

"Not at all," Fae assured him as they both moved back and away from the group.

"I feel as though we know each other far better than we do. Claude speaks of you at every opportunity."

"He sings your praises also," Fae replied, their face tightening as they tried to swallow their blush.

Nader raised an eyebrow, "Now that is a surprise."

"I find that hard to believe," Fae chuckled. "He's so open about his affections."

"True. Do you think yourself subtle, though? Er. Your Eminence."

After a laugh, Fae answered. "Well, I'm not sure. Many say I am hard to read, but I have always thought I was very straightforward in my demeanor."

"What did your father use to think?"

Fae froze a moment, as they blinked up at Nader. "It's been years since someone asked after my father," they apologized. "And never just about his demeanor. Do you mean to ask after the Blade Breaker and his reputation?"

"If it too difficult to talk about him otherwise, then of course, but ... it was not my intention."

"Then I will answer your question. He could always read me. I'm sure it took years of practice, but in those years I was too young to have the memories of him misunderstanding my meanings. He always took the time to speak with me even when I would feel more ... quiet, and shut off from our surroundings. He was very patient with my moods."

"I'm sorry you lost all your family so young," Nader whispered. "Thank you for telling me."

Fae tapped their fingers together, unable to interlock them comfortably with their casts. "Well, it is not as though I have no family now. I have a strong kinship with Seteth and his sister, and my guard captain Alois calls me Sister, having been raised by my father years before I was."

"Sister?" Nader questioned with a scrunched brow.

Fae nodded, "It felt warmer than ‘sibling’ and ... more correct than ‘brother.’ Did Claude ever tell you that I entertained being called King Faedolyn, for a time? Sovereign has felt so much more satisfying than Queen at any rate."

Nader stopped walking altogether, glancing around the pair of them until there was a fair distance from his family and their guards.

"When the time comes, would you have me call you daughter?"

Fae raised an arm to their neck, as they suppressed a sob, their eyes blinking back bittersweet tears. They smiled, and could not meet Nader's eye as they answered, "No. Thank you for asking." Kicking themselves, Fae looked up to Nader's worried face. "My father always called me his child, never his daughter. I don't think it would suit me. Should the time come, I will be a spouse, and not a wife."

A joyous grin spread across Nader's face, that faltered as Claude came running up behind Fae.

"And what are you two whispering about?" he asked calmly, nearly losing balance as he turned to see Fae's tear stained eyes.

"I—" Nader began, prepared to defend himself.

"He was a perfect gentleman," Fae insisted. "I was simply touched by his ... generosity."

Claude raised an eyebrow suspiciously, and nodded his father back to the group, who in turn, nodded his understanding and jogged ahead. Claude looked around at the Fodlani guards, and decided against offering the comfort of touch to his beloved, instead extending a hand to encourage them to walk beside him.

"I'm sorry if they've been intense," Claude apologized.

Fae wiped at their face, but still, they smiled. "Not at all. They've been wonderful."

"Are you sure?" Claude asked, incredulous. "I didn't see Lorenz make you cry."

"They're good tears," Fae assured him. "They have such love for each other, and you, and your homeland ..." They hesitated. "Besides to your father, have I left a good impression?"

Claude hesitated too, but it was obvious that his pause was not because of uncertainty. He admired the breeze in Fae's unbound hair, the blush on their cheeks, the chain on their neck.

"There's nothing about you that they could like more."

Fae rolled their eyes and bumped their shoulder against Claude's arm as they scolded him, "That's a lazy answer."

Claude held his arm where their body had clashed against his as he winked in their direction. "You've left a great impression. It's the people of Fodlan that worry them."

"But we have them well in hand," Fae boasted, "don't we?"

Claude's teeth shone in the orange light of the evening as he smiled. "We do."

The following day, Fae held court as they normally would, which meant attending to their ministers and officially meeting the remaining Almyran dignitaries and other mundane business for the first few hours. Seteth was nearby to sign documents in their royal hand. Linhardt and Flayn were using Hanneman's office to continue research into the connection between Crests and personhood, Crests and hearts. Hanneman was meanwhile tutoring a number of ungrateful youths, as the academy needed to present some kind of education to the attending nobles.

"Now, the next item requiring our attention, is the needs of our Almyran guests," Seteth declared in his role of Lord Chamberlain, unable to fathom what it was that he was introducing. "I am sure that their Eminence would like to once again express our thanks for your assistance in recent events, much as I. The court will gladly hear what business you sought with the crown prior to your generosity in our time of need."

"Thank you, Lord Chamberlain," Claude began, taking a step towards the throne. His voice was airy, a sign of nervousness that Fae could hear. They did their best to smile encouragingly at him.

"Fodlan has weathered many storms, and has a rich and storied history. Its people are resilient, and honorable. The steps our two lands have taken together in recent years also show that we can be neighbourly. This marks the first year Garreg Mach's academy has openly accepted and taught Almyran students, a gesture that has not gone unnoticed by Almyra or Fodlan, I'm sure. I am hopeful that this might mean your people would be willing to entertain an even more fortuitous partnership."

Claude gestured to Lady Rumaisa, who approached him with a stack of parchment. Fae could feel themselves buzzing. They had never seen the charter previously, though they had helped Claude write it, back and forth through letters. Ever since it became obvious that he could take the throne, and that he wasn't just vying for a tolerance between their two peoples from a lesser position in the Almyran court.

"We bring to Fodlan, a charter. A declaration of loyalty, a compendium of laws, a promise of order, and a pledge of fair trade and open immigration."

"This is ..." Seteth trailed, taking the package from Claude.

"For your consideration," Claude finished with a bow. "I have brought those of Almyra with rank enough to consider any changes the Fodlan court may wish to discuss. We understand it may take some time for you to consult with your Grand Dukes and ranking Lords, and are willing to do all we can to contribute during our stay, so as not to overburden your resources."

The ministers erupted in disapproval, and still Claude and Fae shared a smile as he called to Seteth over the din that they would leave the Fodlan court to review their offer. Rumaisa leaving a large leather sack full of copies of their proposal by Seteth's feet with a bow before following the other Almyrans out of the room.

None of the Fodlan ministers would even touch a copy of the Almyran proposal for the first two hours of their upset. Fae chose to order that the copies of the charter they were provided be brought to the Ambassador's Lounge, and forbidden for transport, for fear that they would tamper with or destroy them.

Seteth was quiet for a long time. Fae could only imagine how long he'd seen Fodlan's border hold, and for it to be suggested that the land ally itself with Almyra in this way must've been a shock. The amusement on his face wasn't something Fae had expected.

"Omoya?" he asked softly.

"What's that?" asked one of the ministers.

"Omoya is the name of the nation the Almyrans are proposing. That Fodlan and Almyra be maintained as cultural descriptors, with Faerghus, Leicester and Adrestia being maintained as provinces, rather than duchies, and that otherwise we would be represented under this new name," Seteth clarified. "It seems that Almyra would be undergoing a similar division of structure."

"That sounds like an Almyran word, it would be just as bad as falling under their banner," grumbled another politician.

Seteth's forehead twitched. "Tch. It is not an Almyran word, it is old ... it is of an old language, that the people of Zanado would have spoken. I do not know how he learned of it. It means place of joy." He paused a moment. "Perhaps it is also an Almyran word?"

Encouraged by Seteth, Fae was able to read through the document with their ministers, shocking them with the lack of concessions that were being asked of Fodlan. Most of the laws were the same or self evident, in their current judicial system. There were concerns about trade, and the restructuring of their nobility for the fourth time in a hundred years, not to mention the second time within the past decade. Yet even with as forthcoming as the Almyrans were being in their offer, the ministers found cause to complain and bicker. Fae was glad that the decision would go beyond them, though their council wasn't without weight. They called the end of the meeting before it spiraled too deeply a second time, declaring that it would be discussed again in the presence of their Dukes and the nobles to which they extended invitation in what was to be the Council to Fodlan's Autonomy.

The council would number thirty-three, and would require twenty-eight votes to pass, far more Fae would've hoped for. They would need eleven ministers to agree, if they could sway all of the nobles, but Claude had set himself a higher goal, and convinced each member of his council before returning to Fodlan. Fae had to be more determined.

Seteth would be on the council, with his own vote, and though Fae was sure many would suspect they had him in their pocket, they truly didn't know what his reaction would be. As the room emptied but for the two of them, they asked. "So, what do you think?"

"I think I need some time to digest the possibility. I have always been taught that Fodlan was sacred—"

"No one is saying it isn't," Fae insisted.

"I know," Seteth confirmed, "and all the words about freedom to practice religion and how and who can preach are all very nice."

"But?"

"I do find myself afraid. The world has changed before, and drastically, but without Rhea ... it feels ... frightening. Where would a world like this see Flayn and I when the clock of fate ticks forward? What other nations would feel threatened by a union of this nature, and choose to declare war? What other lands would you and Claude feel honorbound to absorb into Omoya? It is just ... all very new."

"I understand," Fae assured him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I pray you'll take council with your sister and myself when considering your decision."

He flinched a little at the touch, but eased as Fae spoke, nodding his assent. "Of course, your—"

"Fae."

"Of course, Fae," Seteth answered firmly. 

"Brother! What is the meaning of this?"

The duo looked to the doorway, where Flayn held aloft the letter inviting Linhardt to the council, and he stood just behind, a meek expression upon his face.

Though they had yet to marry, Flayn had accepted Linhardt's proposal some years past, much to Seteth's chagrin. So far as he was concerned, no one would ever be worthy of Flayn, but he had come to trust Linhardt with his family, and did not bristle as he used to when he saw them together.

Both of them were invited into the room to review the Almyran's proposal.

Hours later, Flayn tapped at the copy that was to be Linhardt's with a quill as he slumped beside her, exhausted from the effort.

"I see," she confirmed. "I understand now how the nobility is meant to redistribute, and which offices they propose no longer follow heredity, but when this speaks of the royal appointment, it does so without specificity." Flayn looked to Fae accusatorily, "Are we to have two monarchs? Or has there been a discussion about whether the King or the Sovereign is to bow? I suspect that will weigh heavily on the hearts of Fodlan if they were to see you sacrifice your position."

Linhardt snorted awake, excusing himself from several concerned glances.

"Yes, Fae," Seteth hissed, "why isn't your office addressed anywhere in this document? They've even identified me by name in this manuscript, which I am going to request be changed to only reflect the title of my office, but you and Claude are sorely absent."

Fae hesitated but a moment before asking calmly for Linhardt to close the door, once again leaving the room to only they four.

"If a union of our peoples can be agreed upon, and the borders between our lands all but forgotten ... then Claude is to propose. We will be married."

Flayn gasped, and brought a hand to her lips, looking down at the proposal with a different sort of reverence. Seteth looked less irritated than previously, but hardly placated. Linhardt watched the Lord Chamberlain to keep his reaction tame, but he smiled, seeming joyous; he would offer congratulations at a more appropriate time.

"So two nations are to be your pawns in this personal affair?" Seteth growled.

"Brother!" Flayn scolded.

"I assure you Seteth, we have no desire to hold our peoples hostage over this. Sometime ... maybe three years ago? We agreed upon this direction together. If we marry, then it will be separate to the union of Fodlan and Almyra. We don't want our peoples to feel that such a union was born only from a forceful hand. While I remain dedicated to Claude, I would not sacrifice the rights of Fodlan for a marriage."

"So if the vote were to remain a unanimous no, you would forgo this marriage?" Seteth asked skeptically.

Fae felt their breath in their throat, and hated that their body resisted their answer. "I would," they said with conviction. "But I am hopeful. Much of the charter lists laws and governance that we already have in place, and many, if not all, of the proposed changes would be to the benefit of Fodlan. The most significant change would be the border, and sharing space more freely with Almyrans, who would no longer be a separate national identity, only a cultural one."

"It still seems drastic," Seteth groaned, flipping through a few pages with speed. "And I admit ... I think I remain unconvinced."

"I understand," Fae conceded. "I hope that the possibility sits better with you in time, so that you're of a mind to propose changes, rather than simply to decline outright."

"We will see," Seteth agreed.

"It is rather romantic though, isn't it?" Flayn said, wistful. "Working to bring two previously warring nations together, for love?"

"I would agree," said Linhardt, "but the romance isn't in that. It's working to bring two previously warring nations together for their own prosperity and potential. That their love endures this arduous task," he smiled in a broken way towards Flayn, "well, that is what I find romantic."

Seteth didn't look up from his copy of the proposal as he groaned, "Please do not make puppy-eyes at my sister in my presence."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Brother!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be considerate of my interpretation of Claude's family, extended or otherwise. I was very surprised to later learn that if you don't S Support him with My Unit that it is explicitly stated who his father was. I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback, but I would appreciate criticisms be reserved to my writing style or characterizations, and not these other aspects / headcanons.


	5. Unyielding Dedication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy spoilers, but some of the spoilers are wrong because I have taken scissors to the canon.
> 
> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.
> 
> This chapter has kissing! Mwah mwah mwah!

It was two days before Fae next saw Claude; despite them occupying the same space, their duties kept them far away from the Almyrans. Even this meeting was by chance, and lasted only as long as it took to discuss which of the tunnels would be best to be first filled in.

"How goes the fight?" Claude whispered at the top of the steep chasm.

"Not well," Fae admit, "but I'll get there. Lorenz should be the first to return, and while he will be ... surprised. I do hope he will help me plant the seeds I need to sway some of the ministers."

"No," Lorenz exaggerated, looking to Fae and Seteth over his shoulder as he held the Almyran proposal in his hands.

"No?" Fae queried.

"No," Lorenz said again. "This is just—I can't even—this is ..." He sighed. "Hand me a quill."

Fae was shocked by the number of elements Lorenz had to circle and underline and rewrite, and that his rewrite was ... almost profound. It was more equitable, and simply used a language that could be more easily sold to the Fodlan audience. He annotated sections on trade and mandated a new metric by which it would be determined whether taxes or tariffs would need to be reevaluated based on the Fodlan calendar and fishing seasons.

When Lorenz finally seemed satisfied with his edits he sighed again. "I'm sure Duke Ferdinand will have more to say, and that the changes I've proposed may not work with the dry winters in Faerghus, but ... it's a start. How long had Claude been working at this? And you say all of the Almyran court had a chance to review it?" He shuddered.

Fae did not so proudly declare to Lorenz after his display that they'd contributed heavily to the document he'd reviewed. Instead they had to wonder again why they'd ever been tasked with schooling nobles.

They placed a hand on Lorenz's wrist appreciatively. "Thank you."

He blushed as he pulled his wrist away, "Of course you're welcome to my continued council. It's too bad Hilda can't be here, but I'm going to send a messenger now, in case that gives her time enough to send any suggestions before the other lords arrive."

When the Council to Fodlan's Autonomy finally sat together, very few edits besides Lorenz's initial sweeping corrections were appended. Some of the ministers tried to suggest changes that would be far to Fodlan's favor, but were quickly shot down by Dedue and Linhardt. However Cyril, representing house Ordelia, had other elements he wanted added to such an agreement, that spoke of the crown's responsibility to the impoverished, the treatment of prisoners of war, and laws related to the protection of children—which offered Fae an opportunity to word things in such a way as to forbid actions related to Crests and infants.

Even after all of this, the first draft was something only eighteen members of the council could agree upon. Which meant Fae's next three weeks were spent courting the council members, hearing their fears and concerns and then trying to translate that into a fair adjustment in the charter, in hopes of attaining the numbers they needed to even put forward their proposed changes to their Almyran guests.

When that time finally came, Fae nearly broke their right wrist again in shock, squeezing their own hand a little too tight.

They were far too excited to have a page rewrite the whole document, and so that evening they showed up at the Almyran camp with a guard carrying a copy covered in Fodlan's proposed changes, and an original which was meant to be Cyril's copy, but who'd made his notes separately.

Claude laughed at the mess of paper, but seemed unperturbed by the notes. He was practically glowing as he winked at Fae. "Alright, we're in business!"

It was another nine days of going back and forth with proposed changes. It felt to Fae as though the Almyrans were ever more agreeable than their ministers.

It was an awful day; cold and wet. The wyverns tucked into the insufficient stabling, huddled together for warmth. Sniffles and wet boots shuffling along consistently mopped floors and squelching carpets. Fae begged whatever powers might yet listen to them that none of the Almyrans would come down with any manner of true sickness. They held court as regularly scheduled, knowing that Claude had once again notified Seteth that he would be present, and they could only assume it would be to once more return a slightly altered version of his dream.

"Your Eminence," Claude greeted when he was called upon, and then he hesitated, and his smile widened and shone. "I have here the revised charter you provided us yesterday afternoon, unchanged." Fae had to resist the urge to toss back their head, the last time the Almyrans disagreed with amendments to the charter had left their council in a stalemate for nine hours. "And here," he continued, with a flourish, as Lord Sarim stepped forward holding a stack of crisp, clean parchment. "Here we bring you that same document, freshly transcribed, and ready to be signed. Almyra agrees to your terms."

The room straightened. The sounds of the falling rain clashed against the gasps and whispers of the tired and weary dignitaries, who obviously thought they were not this close to having their lives change, and the world around them. Fae stood, and stepped forward, watching the fear in the eyes around them.

"Seteth," Fae called, their eyes still on Claude, "take both copies and compare them. If his Majesty speaks true, then declare that there will be a holiday in two days time. We will make a celebration of the agreement, and the birth of Omoya."

The room seemed to move around Fae and Claude, their gaze locked. His elation and gratitude just barely contained behind a veneer of propriety, while their relief and excitement was what weighed them in place, keeping them from running to his embrace as they once had.

The storm cleared during preparations the following day, and it seemed that the festivities would take place on cool muddy earth with hearty flora decorating the landscape, and not soft delicate flowers and cheery patches of grass on which to rest, as Fae might've imagined as a blessing to a new nation. In the least, the rains brought the fish and would see to it that those in the village would have much to feast upon after the celebration.

Flayn helped Fae select a dress for the occasion, something golden in color; extravagant, while forgoing any gilding or jewelry. Instead insisting upon ribbons with the colors of the Fodlan and Almyran flags braided into their hair, to be tied up and out of the way.

They worried over overshadowing their esteemed guests only as long as it took to read their daily letters.

Hilda was distraught about having been left behind in the territory of House Gloucester, put upon to alone promote faith and joy in the surprising and controversial decisions being made in Garreg Mach to the Leicester people. Her brother passing through her castle without staying so much as a night had set about disheartening her particularly.

Lysithea wrote of how she only cared about what flag she lived under in so far as it affected her people and her parents. She hoped that Fae hadn't forgotten of those who relied so heavily upon them that would not be present to voice their needs.

Fae quickly recognized the reverence they would have to show the upcoming ceremony. They would need to dote on Omoya. They needed to be sure to show their people a face of victory during the celebrations.

They were glad to have their splints removed, though their wrists had still failed to heal completely. It would be a relief to sign the documents in their own hand, unaided.

That night, their hair still done up, dressed down, Fae made their way to the Training Hall, where Leonie, freshly returned from Enbarr, greeted the surprised sovereign warmly. Leonie was disappointed that it hadn't been from Fae directly that she'd heard of the alliance with Almyra, and let it show in her treatment of her old friend. Fae gripped a wooden training sword and could only just make the movements with their person, striking at open air. They were in no way ready to slash against a solid target, let alone spar with the second coming of the Blade Breaker.

Still, it was nice to feel ... more normal than Fae's current station allowed, for a few hours.

The pair of them were still laughing as they made their way past the academy classrooms. There were a few students prowling the grounds, despite the late hour, but the most noise came from a group of nobles of Adrestia.

Fae placed a hand on Leonie's arm and backed them away from the gathering.

"It would be best to let them reminisce on their own I think," they whispered.

Leonie looked annoyed, but nodded in understanding as the pair looped around the courtyards to approach Fae's chambers from the east. The detour led them to the overlook by the graveyard, much repaired since the attack, where Claude and Judith stood in argument.

"She's always been high spirited," Leonie observed. "Though, I suppose I'm one to talk."

Fae smiled. "It looks like she didn't know about the Almyrans’ intentions before too recently. I can understand her frustration. She's always risked a lot for Claude."

The duo peeped as they moved to greet the Hero of Daphnel as she turned and saw them, striding past with a huff and a roll of her eyes. Claude waved awkwardly at a distance.

"Evening your Eminence, Leonie," Claude greeted as they approached.

"If you think I'm going to call you your Majesty, you have another thing coming," Leonie laughed.

He winced at that, and Fae gently elbowed their friend as they addressed Claude by name.

"Also forgoing a title? You two are cruel," he teased. "Have I earned no respect?"

"From what I hear, I have another good sixteen hours before I have to call you my king," Leonie bit back playfully.

Claude laughed and winked at the pair of them. "Alright, alright, fair enough." He fumbled with his hands, and Fae raised an eyebrow. "So, what are you two doing up so late anyway, besides roasting me?"

Fae's expression lit up in excitement as they raised their hands up between them, "They removed my casts, finally. I wanted to try holding a sword again." They looked frustrated and clenched their fists. "I'm not quite there yet."

Claude chuckled and shook his head, his hair bouncing around his face. "You know my father was joking about you needing to hold a weapon?"

Fae's face fell, forlorn. "Maybe, but it's still a disappointment that I won't have healed in time to try any of his challenges."

They took a moment to explain to Leonie about Nader's teasing before inquiring into her own adventures, and any official or impromptu challenges she'd met with on the road. Leonie nearly burst when Fae complimented her about accumulating a number of ready stories to rival her mentor.

As the night wore on, Leonie asked after whether the royals needed to sleep, seeing as they had to be in the public eye the following day. The hesitant look the pair gave each other over her had her rolling her eyes.

"If you needed some time alone you could've just dismissed me," she groaned over their protests and calls for her to stay. She started on her way off in spite of them, waving as they called to her a good night and to see her on the morrow.

When Fae turned back to Claude, they smiled meekly, and stepped forward until they could place their hands up against the banister at the chasm.

"We have good friends," they whispered.

"And good allies," Claude agreed, moving forward to lean on an elbow on the railing, half bent over so that he was shorter than Fae, looking up at them at an odd angle.

"You're wilting," they laughed. "Do you need to bed after all?"

"Oh, no," Claude answered awkwardly, taking to standing. He glanced down at them over his shoulder, "It's just, still nice to see you after all these years."

He moved his hands to the railing next to Fae's, touching his pinky to theirs.

"Claude," Fae whispered, their voice hoarse and sad. They swallowed. "When—?"

"Soon," he assured them, enveloping their hand in his, a gentle pressure across their knuckles. He looked around at the courtyard. "You have so many guards," he lamented.

Fae's eyes widened as they might've once done when they were considering following through with a prank or scheme. He remembered the first time he'd seen that look he'd thought it portrayed shock or disappointment, and how wrong he'd been. He could feel the reactionary rush as his heart sped up even before they said aloud, "I think I know somewhere we could be alone."

They did their best to hold a normal conversation for vested eyes and ears, but their success in this matter was something they'd have to hear about at a later time. Fae led Claude to the Ambassador's Lounge, now empty, with no guard posted by the door, and the tables still arranged but the documents taken away for archiving or destruction.

Closing the doors behind Claude, Fae took a moment to openly admire him before crashing up against their betrothed. Claude groaned into their mouth as he forced himself to stand against the onslaught, or perhaps that was a sob that escaped him as he wrapped Fae in his arms. He arched his back to support their weight, Fae coiling their legs up around his hips, closer to him than they'd ever been before. Pressing their elbows down on his shoulders to support themselves, they wrapped their hands into his neck and up through his hair, gentle on their mending wrists.

Their kisses were soft, and they were rough, and they were familiar and foreign. It ached in Claude's heart and in Fae's core. He adjusted his hands below their ass and held them up so that Fae couldn't easily get to his mouth and tried to wink before being caught in a flurry of kisses on his forehead and eyelids. He chuckled softly as he walked forward, knowing the table was there ahead of them. He sat Fae down upon it and let his hands roam free from their back over their hips and breasts, biting their lips again with promises fulfilled, promises to be upheld, promises for forever.

Their nails gently scraped the edges of his beard and they pressed their thumbs into the knot below his chin, absently ruining Claude's neat look, in the same way that they felt ruined. Claude brought his mouth across Fae's jawline with a soft trailing of kisses before he was whispering in their ear, his hand on the buttons of their shirt.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, seeking permission.

Fae nuzzled into Claude, licking and biting at his ear as he rubbed his hand against the buttons, up and down their cleavage, wasting time. They extended an arm down the front of Claude's stomach, unable to reach any lower as curled up around him as they were.

"Just touching," they teased.

Claude growled in response, moving his hands back to Fae's hips and pulling them to the edge of the table, grinding his clothed erection against their body; he relished in the choked gasp that escaped his partner in crime. Leaned back away from Fae, he could admire the flush on their cheeks, the pout of their lips, the pulse of their body with every harsh breath ... He leaned in again to kiss them, using one arm to try and hold them up towards him, as the other finally took to unfastening those buttons.

He pulled the fabric up and over their shoulder, biting an angry kiss from their neck to their clavicle. Fae shivered so that Claude could feel it everywhere they touched.

They continued their affections for a time, Fae snaking their hands into the back of Claude's collar, clasping a hand around his face forcefully at times, directing their lover's desperate attentions.

"Claude," Fae called quietly, as the man lapped and nipped longingly at the exposed flesh of their chest above their brassiere.

"Fae?" Claude answered even before looking up.

"Claude," they repeated teasingly, "we should get to bed."

He stared up at them for a moment, before worrying the angle might be hard on their neck, and sighed as he straightened himself back into a standing position, helping them to sit up. He stroked his hands down over either side of their face several times before holding their neck and placing his forehead to theirs.

"I wish you had a different meaning," he admitted.

They leaned forward to place another kiss on his lips.

"Soon, you promised."

"Yeah," he said sadly, running a finger down the chain wrapped around Fae's neck. He held the ring in his hand for a moment, twisting the gems to the light with a soft smile.

They separated and Fae took to buttoning back up while Claude tried to scratch his beard into place and adjust his shirtsleeves.

"Disheveled?" he asked after a moment, framing his face with a hand.

"Very," Fae said as they shook their head with an affectionate smile. When they stood, they too queried, "And me?"

"I think you can blame any flyaway hair on your sword training," he teased, "but no, you look fine."

"Then I'll walk you to the stairwell," Fae offered as they raised a hand as if to touch Claude's chest again, before thinking better of it and dropping their hand aside.

"Wait," Claude pleaded, wrapping them in his arms from behind, his larger figure enveloping them. Fae quickly brought their arms around their lover’s, leaning back into the embrace. He brought a finger up and to their lips, trailing it down across their chin and neck. "I love you, Fae."

It was as if a fire that had long since been burned to embers in Fae's chest had been relit. They squeezed his hands. "I love you too."

Slowly, Claude released his hold on his lover, allowing them to open the door and lead him away. He winked as he said his goodbye. In his heart, he could feel the clock ticking until their next meeting.

The following day was a whirlwind, starting with song in the cathedral, merriment on the grounds, mandated conversations with dignitaries and a wide variety of competitions that Fae and Claude were forbidden from participating in. Still, Fae was pleased as they made their way through town, where the diverse crowds had gathered in celebration appeared to be happy, though it were impossible to be as happy as them.

Claude appeared ready to have the rug pulled out from under him all day, understandably so, considering their track record, but by late afternoon no disasters had occurred, and the royals found themselves on stage before the masses, describing what had unfolded and how it would affect them, expressing their thanks to all who had assisted in bringing them this charter, and the dream of Omoya.

The Almyran court and Fodlan's council filed across the stage, signing the charter that Claude had been working towards for nearly a decade and a half. His was to be the last signature, after Faedolyn's, and the Sovereign of Fodlan struggled to ensure their mark was smooth and even. They realized they should've been practicing their penmanship rather than their swordplay the night prior, but there it stood, their latest mark upon the history of the land, next to the names of so many friends to whom they owed so much.

Claude's eyes were shining when he stepped forward, but so far as Fae could see, his hand was steady, and he left his mark with a flourish. With the task complete, Seteth addressed the crowd as scribes hurried the documents away to be copied and archived.

The Almyrans lead the roar of celebration as Seteth finished his address and reopened the floor to the royals.

Claude started by saying some eloquent things in regards to his time and history with the nobility of each Almyra and Fodlan, and the strong ties he hoped all would feel now with their brethren of Omoya.

"I understand there may be many grudges to work through, but it is my wish that what the Almyran and Fodlan courts were able to achieve over the past weeks, months, even the past two years of my reign will demonstrate that the benefits of working through our complicated pasts are worth the effort. That our differences are to be celebrated. But what we have in common has always been and will always be more numerous. Our desire to live happily, to protect our families, to thrive and create ...

"To continue working towards these ideals with the ever exalted Sovereign Faedolyn, and to affirm my dedication to this union," Claude took a knee, "I would like to formally request your hand in marriage, your Eminence. Once, long ago, you accepted my ring. Will you still have me? Will you stand beside me in Omoya?"

Fae bit their tongue. If Claude had asked in private, they would have counselled patience and corrections to his proposal, but here it hung in the air, the question they'd been waiting for for seven years. Their smile could not be contained.

They fumbled with their necklace, and Lorenz came up from behind them to help unclasp the chain. Fae held the ring in their hand when they felt the chain go lax. They took a wobbly step forward and offered Claude the token as they said aloud, "I will marry you, Claude von Riegan, and we will forge a path forward for Omoya, together."

He made a show of kissing Fae's fingers before adjusting the ring upon their hand, and Seteth quickly picked up the slack of the ceremony, calling congratulations and encouraging the crowds and lords to disperse into the various events and celebrations.

As he ushered the happy couple aside, and out of the public eye, he scolded Claude, "You could have warned me," he groaned at the look Claude gave him before he conceded, "but congratulations. Now I'll just be bombarded with questions to which I have no answers for the foreseeable future." He held the bridge of his nose, "In the least, have you given some thought to from where you will rule?"

"Seteth," Fae cautioned kindly, "if Adrestia were governed from Enbarr or Aegir, it would still be Adrestia. We are in Omoya now, we will rule from wherever we stand." He had the grace to go from flabbergasted to apologetic rather quickly, and Fae put a hand to his shoulder. "But to answer your question, we intend to spend our winters and springs in the Almyran capital, while our summers and autumns will be spent here, at Garreg Mach. After the first two years or so. Which will likely be much travelling, to visit what were the capital cities of Fodlan, and the twelve provinces of Almyra." They let their hand slide clear across to his other shoulder, a gesture of comfort. "We've not lost our wits, my friend."

"Well you could've fooled me," teased Lorenz. Their conversation had hardly been private, but Fae still startled to have him step up behind them.

"You know," Claude droned, "if Hilda were here, she'd be on my side."

Lorenz reached up to touch the side of his face, looking both wistful and worried. "You're probably right," he conceded. "She is going to be so disappointed she wasn't here." His long purple hair was tied in a braid that draped over his right shoulder, and Claude reached out to bat it like a cat before clasping his friend's shoulder.

"Congratulations to you both on your engagement," Lorenz chuckled, wrapping his hand around Claude's wrist. "It was good of you not to propose in the middle of negotiations, in the least."

Claude winked as Seteth groaned. "Yes, I suppose there are some small blessings."

The rest of the day was spent in celebration, accepting congratulations and sneaking away to offer clarifications and deal with what were, admittedly small, matters of business which arose as a result of Claude's grandstanding. The couple was able to stand beside each other almost the whole day, and they couldn't have been happier.

The Almyrans had to leave soon afterwards, but not before settling on dates and colors and conceding Garreg Mach as the place of the wedding. It would be another five months before they would see each other again. A drop in the ocean.

Each day felt like a dream to Fae, one from which they could be violently awoken at any moment, but no new threats reared their heads. Each session at court was rife with needing of hand holding, firm reminders and clarifications related to how their merchants and farmers and bankers and universities were expected to conduct themselves in Omoya. They had never written so many letters in their life, even with those that could be scripted by others only requiring a signature in their royal hand. It was a delight to have these laborous hours interrupted with wedding planning.

Fae stopped reading Claude's letters during the day, dedicating to him their nights, and writing equally embarrassing and amorous letters in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of name dropping in this chapter. I didn't bother listing them all in the tags because I doubt this is what people would be looking for if they were searching their names, but I hope it balanced well for you, the reader. I hope you're still enjoying this! Let me know!!


	6. The Wedding Episode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy spoilers, but some of the spoilers are wrong because I have taken scissors to the canon.
> 
> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.
> 
> This is a wedding, but it is just fluff and silly kisses.

Claude arrived at Garreg Mach a full five days before the ceremony, but perhaps for tradition and maybe just because of the trouble they caused him, Seteth seemed to somehow secure that he and Fae didn't see each other until the time of the wedding.

Fae stood in front of a long mirror in their bedroom, admiring themselves. They had refused to wear white, as was tradition in Fodlan for a wedding, worrying it would have them looking like Rhea, and they had refused to wear red, as was tradition in Almyra for a wedding, worrying it would have them looking like Edelgard. They had objected to a dress, to avoid comparisons to a bride, which they were not, and ended up wearing a masculine suit in shades of green, with white and yellow accents, including florals in the main patterns of the material and a wyvern taking flight up the centre of their back.

A veil was still incorporated into a hair pin, their long hair pulled back in a crown braid before tumbling down to their thighs. They often wore it up in a bun, and it seemed hazardous like this. Fae wondered if it was time to be rid of the mess of it, and had to be stopped by their attendant from taking shears to their locks hours before the ceremony.

Despite the Fodlan nobility insisting upon the wedding taking place at Garreg Mach, Fae and Claude had successfully argued against holding the ceremony in the cathedral. The ceremony would be presided over by a priest of the Church of Seiros and a representative of the Almyran faith in a large amphitheater built in what was now the city surrounding Garreg Mach. There would be vows made in a combination of Fodlan and Almyra's style of oaths, and the music would alternate every five songs between songs related to the Church of Seiros, traditional Fodlani wedding songs, and only when the ceremony was concluded would there be music of Almyra.

White roses decorated nearly every surface, but the air was thick with the smell of the feast in preparation rather than the delicate scent of flowers. Fae giggled as soon as they made their way into open air, sure that there would be several growling stomachs rushing them along.

"Sister," Alois greeted, when Fae's attendants released them to his care. He was on the verge of tears already, and his moustache shone from too much wax. Fae placed a hand to their heart before producing a handkerchief.

"Alois, if you cry, I'm going to cry, so please," they scolded lovingly, encouraging him to bow down for them to wipe at his eyes and moustache.

"I just wish it was your father here to do this."

"Our father," they insisted with a sad smile. Nodding as they folded the handkerchief and pressed it across the bridge of their nose, stemming the tears that threatened to fall at the prospect.

"Our father," he agreed, with a meek tilt of his head.

"He is here with me, I'm sure." They tucked the handkerchief in an inside pocket and then reached to take both of Alois' hands. "I'm glad at least that I am not entirely without family. Thank you again for walking with me."

"It is an honor," Alois answered with a boisterous laugh, offering Fae his arm.

Fae had to wonder whether it was Alois' company, their wedding attire, or if they truly seemed more bright and approachable. Even after attaining the title of sovereign, people had avoided their gaze or had tight, uncomfortable smiles when they'd try to wave as they passed, but today their smiles were met by people in the streets, their waves returned and their heart warmed by whispers, rather than fretting.

Alois consulted with guards along their path, confirming that they were ready for them, that all appeared as it should, and other duties befitting a protector of the crown. Fae tapped his shoulder as they reached the final checkpoint, to get him to stop as if in conversation, before propping themselves up on his arm to kiss his cheek. 

They squeezed his elbow as they admit, "Your smile gives me courage, Brother."

Their honesty made him blush a little harder, but his soft laugh lit up their face all the same. They took comfort from Alois' familiarity as they passed gates and crowds to reach the top of the amphitheater, where, as expected, their body froze.

They had yet to attend a gathering in the amphitheater, and the crowded seats seemed to hold so many more than the empty venue allowed. Moreover, Fae was surprised at the number of guests they could recognize from above the crowd. They had been hiding the extent of their relationship with Claude for so long, that it felt ... dangerous, unsafe, to be so exposed. And yet ...

At center stage they could see Claude catch sight of them, and even through the nerves of the situation, they felt compelled toward him, a journey's end.

Fae ripped their gaze from the stage to smile and nod at various guests in their path, now that they knew things were exactly as Seteth had described they would be. Besides Claude, upon the stage stood his parents, Mercedes in the role of the Fodlan priest, the Almyran figurehead, and a portion of the musical group to accompany the ceremony.

The closer they walked to the stage, the deeper the flush in Fae's cheeks. They were relieved there were so many loving smiles directed their way, even amongst the bored and neutral expressions.

They took a moment to admire their betrothed. His outfit was ... puffier, than his usual wear. It looked soft and cumbersome. His shirts and gloves were varying shades of red, with highlights in a dull olive color, and bright gold. An extra number of clasps hung from his earring, and a golden antler pin pierced his jacket above his heart. He'd cut the knot from his beard, and looked clean and kingly, as he should.

After a wink, Claude opened his mouth to whisper something to Fae as they arrived next to him, but Mercedes cleared her throat to silence him, and instead welcomed everyone to their union. The introductions were long and included prayers to the Goddess and thanks to the people of Omoya. While the crowd was permitted to sit, there was a lot of bowing in Fodlan weddings, and Fae, Alois, Claude, Nader and Rebecca had to each take a turn on their knees, suffering through prayers and declarations. Claude had to nudge his father at one point, when he snorted, risking a giggle at the strangely solemn and reverent Fodlan traditions.

The Almyran figurehead was given time afterwards to speak and give ritual. Fae worried that it might appear that the Almyran portion of the ceremony might've been cut short, when in truth they were simply more succinct and efficient in this sort of event. Yet worse still, Almyrans traditionally broke bread at the time where Fodlani exchanged rings, and the smell of spices was quickly saturating the amphitheater, bringing with it hunger and confusion to the crowds. Fae had to imagine those who had voted upon it were questioning the decision to delay the exchange of food until dinner.

Even so, eventually, finally, the time came to exchange rings, which still brightened the disposition of both religious figureheads; the language and symbolism being similar enough to the Almyran tradition. Claude and Fae stood facing each other, those leading the ceremony between them, facing the crowd. They made their declarations as rehearsed, with Claude leading, as they struggled and giggled to get their rings on in time with their speech; which had not been rehearsed as they had not seen one another.

"Your people are my people, and always will be."

"Your people are my people, and always have been."

"You can find me, when you look for your heart."

"When you look to your heart, there I will be."

"With this ring, you will know that I am ever beside you."

"For when we are parted, remember me by this ring."

Fae was grateful the refitting had gone well at least, and that the token from their father fit so neatly upon Claude's hand. They squeezed his fingers, blushing again as they caught sight of the tears in his eye. He did his best to wink them away, and failed, needing to wipe at his lower eyelid with the back of his knuckle.

Mercedes introduced them as the Monarchs of Omoya, and Fae nearly slipped as Claude's hands quickly jumped to their neck and he pulled them in for a warm kiss. Fae considered using their Divine Pulse to get the jump on him, and maybe dip Claude in front of the crowd, but decided against it as he pulled away and smiled at them. The moment was perfect.

The crowd cheered, and Fae caught sight of Hilda whistling so loud that three people around her flinched. They leaned against Claude so that he was forced to wrap an arm around them, instead of walking arm in arm as was scripted. Silently they begged, 'Be by my side now.'

They made their way to the town square, open and decorated and filled with tables waiting to be festooned with feast and laughter. Claude sat at Fae's right hand at the top of the display, Alois to their left and Seteth beyond him. As Claude adjusted his seat, he snuck a kiss to the side of Fae's head, lost in the locks of their hair. Nader and Rebecca made their way around the back of them, to sit at Claude's side, his cousin, Lord Sarim sitting just beyond them.

The rest of the crowd passed in front of them, dignitaries and well wishers given room to bow and be addressed before heading into the courtyard beyond to sit and eat. Fae had not allowed an exchange of gifts to take place here. They knew they couldn't escape the sense of obligation both the Almyrans and Fodlani people felt towards providing offerings, but they could at least ensure it wasn't a public competition of flattery.

"I'm so hungry your guests are starting to look like appetizers," Nader grumbled at one point, brightening Fae's smile and earning harsh whispers and elbows from his family.

However, when the royal table was finally served, it was Seteth's groan which got the most attention, "Finally."

He held his forehead as he tolerated their snickering.

"Wait," Claude called gently as a plate was set before his spouse, though Fae still sat with their hands in their lap.

"I remember," they assured him with a kind smile. When they glanced over the crowd, they could see some sets of expectant eyes, many others caught up in food or conversation unaware or uninterested in what they were doing at their table. The scene tickled them in a way that amphitheater hadn't.

Claude tore at a hunk of bread so dense it could pass for a muffin. It was filled with nuts and a savory paste that smelled of meat and spices. It was supposed to be a symbolic gesture of being able to provide and being willing to share even from one's own plate or some such, but the romance of the act was nearly lost on Fae as their stomach growled. Even if Claude hadn't heard, his expression still showed them that he could see the ravenous look in their eyes.

He brought the larger half to Fae's lips as they leaned over the table. After a slip, Claude pressed the side of his thumb to their bottom lip to try and avoid a mess as they bit hard into the thick texture of the food.

There were a few scattered cheers in the audience that warmed Fae's face as much as the food they struggled to chew discreetly, and confused the vast majority who were not paying attention.

Claude winked as he easily consumed the other half of the meat pie.

"How am I supposed to dance after this, this food is going to put me into a coma," Fae lamented between mouthfuls.

Alois chuckled. "I am glad I'm not technically working."

"Just have Claude carry you," Nader teased, "I'm sure there's nothing he'd deny you today."

"Excuse me," Claude whined dramatically. "I'm right there with my spouse. Wake me up when it's time for bed."

The wide eyes Fae's half of the table gave their gauche monarch stopped him, still as a deer. Nader and Rebecca roared with laughter as Claude extended a single finger upwards pointedly, "Not what I meant."

Fae drank heavy of their wine as Seteth’s agitation poured off of him in waves.

When everyone was feeling fat and lethargic, the tables were moved aside and benches propped up along the market square for many to still find a place to rest. However, the ensemble was regrouping to fill the empty space and Fae went on to thank their guests for their patience through the ceremonies, and to open the festivities to the crowds.

Only the dance floor required a ritual to open, and Fae was grateful that the dance Claude led them in was slow and sweet.

"This is a precious moment," Fae whispered.

"It is," Claude agreed, his eyes all stars and sunlight.

"Well. I meant because ... we're alone," Fae said, despite the throngs of people around them.

"I know," Claude confirmed, leaning his head down to rest against theirs before pulling away, spinning them in his arms.

Over the course of the evening, Fae led Claude in dance three times, and stumbled through some Almyran tunes with him, Sarim and Nader on separate occasions. They continued to dance with a number of their guests, some more willing than others, and Seteth being the worst about being dragged into the fray. So too were there wyvern races, games of luck and talent, and lots of drinking. Fae refused to race Claude and Ghaymah until Nader offered to sit behind them astride their wyvern; the pair of them still lost to the experienced team but it was at least not monumentally embarrassing.

During these events, Fae and Claude lost each other several times, pulled away by choice, responsibility and simple chaos.

Fae sat out three songs with Lysithea and Cyril, as she was still wheelchair bound after her recent surgeries. She had one Crest now, and Hanneman and the Church had a better understanding of the whole heart transplant situation. Although Lysithea had appeared weak to those who hadn't seen her in two years, Cyril confided in Fae that she was looking stronger than she had in a long time and that even if she didn't ever fully recover from what was done to her, he was grateful that her quality of life had improved.

Several months pregnant, Mercedes had to sit after the long ceremonies, and was beating a table of many who had underestimated the soft spoken priest at a game of chance. Fae hovered long enough to lose two rounds, before excusing themselves from the discord.

Meanwhile Claude found Lorenz just outside the crowds, seated atop one of the disarranged tables, talking to an infant in his lap. They had to be his youngest, just under a year old, with large dark eyes and pink hair pinned in a ribbon atop their head with two large curls twirling down their back; probably not even having had their first haircut yet.

When Lorenz saw him approach he adjusted himself, Claude raising a hand to keep his formal friend from standing.

"Congratulations," Lorenz said instead, "my rightful Monarch."

"Are you suggesting Fae is wrongful?" Claude teased.

For all their years, Lorenz didn't bluster, only smiled and shook his head. "Hardly. But you were my leader once before, and it was strange that you were absent for so long."

Claude offered his hand to the child, who clasped on tightly, humming nonsense into their soother as they started slapping across the new texture of his riding glove.

"So who's this I'm meeting?"

That gave Lorenz pause. "I thought that—? Sorry, there's just been, a lot happening."

"I completely understand."

"Well I know you know of my eldest, Halvard. He's off somewhere chasing your cousin's children from what I understand it. I'm sure you'd know him by his pink hair and thick chin. He's the spitting image of Holst at that age, I'm told." He adjusted his youngest on his lap to hold them around the belly. "This is my little angel, Lorencia. Lorencia, this is Claude."

"Not, his Majesty?" Claude prodded again, but kindly; fatherhood suited his friend.

Lorenz pursed his lips sheepishly, "Give us another year or two before we get beyond the titles of Mommy and Daddy."

Lorenz took a long breath, that Claude would have initially thought was associated with his previous sheepishness, but the words that left his old friend's lips were the most unexpected phrase. "It was a lovely ceremony. It was good of you to invite us; Hilda and I are blessed to be here."

Claude raised an eyebrow before carefully taking a seat next to Lorenz on the table, watching the surface for any sign of tipping.

"You're our best friends," he said through confidence and confusion, "not to mention instrumental to Omoya and leaders of what is now Leicester province. Why would you need to thank me for an invitation?"

Lorenz's eyes widened as he bounced his child absently. "You don't know?" his question shocked Claude to silence and Lorenz stammered as he adjusted the hair on the back of his head. "I-I shouldn't say anything. Not today, at any rate."

"Lorenz," Claude said. It was a question, a comfort, a plea.

Lorenz scratched his neck, and Claude had to wonder if his friend were blushing.

"I know you can keep a secret," Lorenz said very quickly, "but please," he took a breath and enunciated each request, "be subtle, and kind." He rattled off again as he stroked Lorencia's hair. "I know I was more than a little self-absorbed in my youth. And that even now I struggle to ensure I see things beyond the lens of my perspective and upbringing—"

Claude placed a hand on Lorenz's shoulder, cutting him off, "A noble quality." He nodded, to show that he would accommodate his friend's seemingly simple requests, "Of course, Lorenz."

He sighed. "About a month after your departure, I was still cleaning up my father's messes. I was very emotional over the loss of my friendships—circumstance had pulled us all in different directions, and things in my life were starting to feel ... permanent."

Lorenz paused, and to his dismay Claude didn't rush him, so he had to wallow in it before trudging on.

"Fae was a great friend to me, and I was ... mistaken by your departure. I was halfway through a proposal when they realized what I was saying. They stopped me, of course, sparing me having said anything irredeemable. They told me of your ring and your promise, and well, to say I was embarrassed would be like saying—"

"You were embarrassed," Claude insisted, a patient smile on his face, and Lorenz was certainly blushing now.

"It felt so shameful that I wouldn't have realized that the bond between the two of you had been ... as strong as it is."

Claude snorted and covered his face with a fist, falling into a fit of laughter as Lorenz covered the side of his face in his free hand, facepalming. "Which I've made sure to do again at the soonest opportunity it seems." He laughed too, in a far more muted way. "They told you?" he confirmed.

"Yeah," Claude confirmed with a wink as he tried to ease his laughter for the sake of his friend's dignity. "We talk about everything, as I'm sure you do with Hilda." Lorenz nodded, not deigning to look up. "And there's definitely no animosity. We both love you, dearly."

Lorenz opened his mouth to reply, but it was then that his infant spat their soother straight away in an angry display of nerves, squirming in his grasp. The soother was attached by a string to the babe's outfit, and Lorenz offered it to them as they fussed, preparing to cry.

"Oh, Lorencia, what is it, my angel?" He cooed, before addressing Claude casually, "She's tired." His voice regained a singsong quality as he stood, "Let's find your nanny, sweetling."

Before he could take but a step, Hilda was walking toward the pair of them looking disappointed. She whined as she leaned forwards collecting the infant from their father, "I heard a sob."

"She's fine," Lorenz insisted. "I was just about to—" Hilda plucked what had appeared to be a hair pin from her delicate updo, and let it unravel in a long line of linked metal circles, each about the size of her palm, and Lorencia gurgled, "I suppose it doesn't matter."

Hilda rolled her eyes affectionately, Lorencia taking hold of the chain and shaking the circles that fell from Hilda's hand, entranced.

"Claude!" she exclaimed, finally able to address her old friend. He stood, and leaned in to half embrace and mock kiss her cheek. "You look handsome," she squealed, before moving to stand so that they could both look into the crowd, Fae's figure visible at a distance. "And Fae! Oh, they really do look wonderful." She reached out to tap the back of Claude's hand with her own, popping her shoulders up excitedly, "Aren't you excited?"

Claude tried not to look too confused as he queried, "To?"

Hilda groaned as if it should've been self evident, but Claude felt both he and Lorenz sigh in relief as she answered, "To start your life together, of course!"

"It'll be good to be close to Fae," Claude allowed, shrugging as he admit, "but it feels like we've already been living our lives together."

Hilda looked affronted. "What? Don't tell them that. You have to say something romantic about all the build up, or all this work will feel unrewarded."

Claude laughed. "I can celebrate the every day."

"Not on your wedding day," she scolded. "Sheesh. And what are you two even doing over here, tucked away like wallflowers?"

"I was—" Lorenz began.

"Claude," Hilda ordered, heedless, "go see to your other guests." She gestured insistently, "Woo the Adrestians."

Claude clutched a hand over his heart affectionately as he bowed his head to the pair of them, walking backwards between a barrier to the gathering as he called back, "But we'll talk soon then!"

Hilda waved, jingling the chain so that Lorencia babbled about the noise. She froze however, when Lorenz leaned around her to press a soft kiss to her lips.

"Lorenz?" she whispered, her surprise plain. Having taken her chin in thumb and forefinger, he stroked her once affectionately before pulling his arm away, still leaned into her space.

"I like it when you take charge," he said lovingly.

She flushed, whispering a half-hearted reprimand, "Still. Control yourself." She squinted, licking her lips. "Have you been drinking? You don't taste like you've been drinking."

Lorenz chuckled as he straightened. "I'm sorry to have caught you so off guard, my love. No, I haven't been drinking."

"Then are you alright?" she asked, her tone even, but her eyes kind. "You're  _ never  _ this affectionate in public." She hushed further as she stepped so close she bumped against him, "I know you assured me that the day wouldn't get to you, but—"

"Hilda, I'm fine," he assured her, blushing a little at the memory of his recent conversation. He could tell her later. He wrapped an arm over her shoulders, and pressed a second kiss to her temple, "Just smitten. And happy with how things have turned out."

As the courtyard darkened, the party was kept aglow by lanterns and firelight; braziers cutting across the crowds throwing wild shadows as the laughter and merriment continued. Claude found Fae seated with Linhardt, resting his head upon their shoulder. He thought about helping them extract themselves, but there seemed nothing else with which to prop up their weary friend, so instead he sat beside them.

"Lord Hevring," Claude greeted, a little unkindly perhaps. He could see Fae giving him an indignant look.

Linhardt yawned and sat up, drowsily answering, "But I'm not ... My father ... But you know that ..." As he got hold of his bearings, he sat up straight as a rod. "I-I should not be seated between the happy couple."

Fae wrapped an arm around Linhardt's shoulders, their expression gentle. "You're family, after a fashion. Please stay."

Linhardt inhaled sharply as he considered his options, and Claude leaned forward, changing the subject.

"I've heard you replaced Hanneman at the academy these past few weeks?"

"Oh," Linhardt softened, a smile blooming on his face, "yes, it's been quite rewarding. Hard to maintain a schedule that suits all their needs, but I am well supported."

Their conversation was tame, and Fae said a silent prayer of thanks that Claude had at least enough tact to suffer through this simple pleasantry. Finally, they did let Linhardt go, bidding him a goodnight as he sought a final look upon his betrothed before bed.

"If Seteth isn't careful, those two are going to elope," Claude said, almost sadly.

"He might rather that than have to sit through a small private ceremony," Fae suggested, leaning into their husbands' arms.

"I think he would far prefer sitting through a chaste wedding kiss, then face Flayn after ... What are you doing?"

Fae had sat up away from Claude in a very slow and deliberate fashion. They brought their fingertips up to either side of their forehead before turning to look at him, extending their hands in front of themselves, turning their wrists as they looked at their wedding ring.

"I just ... thought of you as my husband for the first time."

Claude started to laugh when Fae took hold of his collar and tugged upon it until they were face to face. They were all intensity, but not the sort of passion Claude had been anticipating.

He brought his hands up over Fae's, drawing them up away from his collar, replacing the fabric in their grip with his thumbs. He held their hands for some time, letting the ferocity of their excitement warm him, before nodding up the hill.

"Come with me," he whispered.

He took them up the road, out of sight of the majority of the crowd, but not so far as to be unable to observe the ongoing party. Claude tucked the pair of them into a narrow alley, and kissed their forehead, their face, once, twice, before twirling them around and holding them from behind.

Fae hummed appreciatively, running their hands over his thick shirtsleeves, leaning back into the embrace as Claude pressed a kiss to the back of their head.

They watched the crowd for a time, twenty minutes at least. Occasionally Claude would comment on the people, as many who might never have met, or certainly wouldn't have counted each other as allies and countrymen continued to share and converse. It wasn't quite the fruition of his dream, but it was ... like seeing moonlight through the clouds.

Fae jumped to attention when a loud wolf whistle broke their reverie. Sylvain laughed and waved at the Monarchs as his spouse chided him, pressing him forward in embarrassment.

Claude's hands twitched around Fae's middle. On instinct he'd almost released his hold and dived deeper into the alleyway, but instead he pressed his face into the back of their head, breathing deeply of the floral perfumes lost in their long green hair. He would not let go.

"People must think that—"

"Let them," Claude grumbled, turning his head on its side and resting around his spouse.

Fae smiled, reflecting on not only lessons in etiquette, but lessons in why one would occupy themselves with etiquette at all, that other nobles had struggled upon them when they'd first taken the crown. They extended one arm behind themselves to touch the outside of Claude's hip.

"Tired?" they queried.

"Comfortable," Claude answered, pulling his head back. He loosened his stance as Fae spun about in his arms, turning to face him.

"Well," they said carefully, a soft blush creeping across their face in the dim light, their gaze fixed on Claude's mouth. "I'm nearly ready to retire, when you are."

Their large green eyes flashed up to meet Claude's only on the word retire, as if he might miss their meaning, which tightened the smile on his lips. As his heart fluttered, Claude brought a hand up to tangle in Fae's curls.

"You know we can't sneak away, right? Or else our guards and Seteth might worry. We'll have to make a show of leaving."

Fae met his gaze, and giggled, hooking a hand around his arm. "Then we should wait." They raised themselves on their toes to kiss him softly. "You're as red as your outfit."

They walked back through the crowds, exchanging pleasantries with more estranged guests who'd been prioritized lower during their initial release to the party, but they didn't separate for the rest of the evening. When it was finally of an opportune moment for the couple to thank and bid adieu to their guests, the remaining revelers were no less boisterous, and the walk to seclusion felt long and clumsy.

As Fae closed the door to the outside world, they pressed a hand to their chest, feeling that if they had a heart, the sound of it in their ears would be as deafening as the poets described.

Claude pressed in on their space until they were backed up against the door. Reflexively, Fae gently scratched against the wood as they balanced back against it, leaning forward into his soft and hungry kiss. He pulled away, but only barely, long hair falling down to frame his face.

"So, we're finally alone," he all but purred, resting one hand on their hip and the other on their jaw.

"No expectations," Fae teased.

"Some expectations," Claude said with a wink.

He kissed them again, and Fae brought their hands up to play with the buttons on his collar, sneaking their fingers down into his shirts. When they parted again, it was with heavy breathing; gasping for air and each other.

"Should I be embarrassed?" Fae asked, and though their tone matched the mood of the moment, both they and Claude could feel their nervousness.

"No," Claude growled, leaning in to kiss and suck on their neck, tilting their body into his; yet despite his efforts, Fae bemoaned their continued inherent lack of privacy.

"I just wish I didn't feel like there were ears at the door."

Claude chuckled as he licked the underside of their ear before joking. "We could leave the door open?"

Fae smiled in mock disgust, as they gently shoved at their husband. "You're the worst. The worst. I've married the worst man in Fodlan."

"In Omoya," he corrected, accepting defeat and allowing himself to be dislodged from their embrace.

"In Omoya," Fae agreed, advancing on Claude's buttons once more, accepting chaste kisses as they slowly revealed the warm flesh beneath.

Their hands slid under the soft fabrics and over the hair on Claude's chest, settling only to cling to his body and heartbeat as he drew them close and kissed them again, ravenous and playful. The pair of them were laughing softly as they stifled each other for breath or ghosted gentle tickles across their skin; setting the tone for the night, and their relationship ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choo-choo! Fluff stops here! Did you like it, or did you love it? Lol. Let me know in the comments! I'm going to have a Part II which is going to be Explicit chapters, starting with Fae and Claude's wedding night as we end off here, so, look forward to that if you're into that kind of thing. If you eventually end up here because you read the smut first then: omg! I'm honored. ^^; Regardless, I know these six chapters are quite a read - 25k all together! - so kudos to you reader if you made it this far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on my story!
> 
> Edit: It is no longer true that the Fluff stops here. Check out Part IV [Gentle Moments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716943/chapters/49215200) for Fluff and Hurt/Comfort!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted in years, I would love to hear your feedback. Please be kind! Definitely let me know if there are typos that got past me and my friends who helped me edit.


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